


Love Pitch

by Bookdancer



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Bucky has a prosthetic, Canon Disabled Character, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Social Media, St. Petersburg is in Florida not Russia, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers aka Captain of a Baseball Team, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, baseball fans on social media, baseball violence, gratuitous use of clichés with no regrets, mentions of actual MLB teams but not players themselves, rated for Clint’s foul language, the cheesiest flirting you’ll ever read, they're both pitchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookdancer/pseuds/Bookdancer
Summary: Clint is a starting pitcher for the Manhattan Avengers, Bucky Barnes is a rival pitching for the St. Petersburg Hydras. Any sort of relationship should be impossible... too bad nobody told them that. Winterhawk MLB AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 WinterHawk Big Bang, this also happens to be the longest piece I’ve ever written. I never thought this would get longer than 10k words, but here we are. I’ve split this into 4 chapters for easier reading, but the whole fic is written, edited, and ready for posting. By the end of today the whole thing should be up.
> 
> The absolutely incredible artist @claraxbarton (tumblr handle) created amazing art for this fic, so please visit her at [http://claraxbarton.tumblr.com/post/175671614400/arts-for-the-winterhawkbigbang-for] and give her all the love.
> 
> This fic has been through a lot with me, but it never would have become the fic it is without the help of Serinah (AO3 username) and @queenofmoons67 (tumblr handle), my betas. A thousand thank yous to both of you for all of your help.
> 
> I do not own the Avengers, no matter how much I wish I did. I’ve cross-posted this fic to ff.net (Bookdancer) and tumblr (@bookdancerfics).
> 
> One last thing, and this is important! I used a lot of baseball jargon in this fic, so if you ever find a word or phrase related to baseball that makes you go *huh, what the heck does that mean?* then visit [http://bookdancerfics.tumblr.com/post/175679307626/baseball-jargon-glossary] to find a baseball glossary that I wrote up specifically for this fic. It’s in alphabetical order and I hope it explains everything you need to know.
> 
> P.S. Every link in the social media posts leads to an actual twitter/instagram post, so have fun!
> 
> P.P.S. I needed to give Valkyrie a full name here, so I used her given first name (Brunnhilde) and the last name of one of her aliases (Riggs). So if you see reference to Brunnhilde, Riggs, or Brunnhilde Riggs, that’s Valkyrie.
> 
> Finally, I hope you all enjoy reading this!

Clint met Barnes at the entrance to Stark Stadium, the Manhattan Avengers’ ballpark. And by “met”, Clint means that they ran into each other. Literally. Clint even spilled his coffee all over Barnes’s nice white practice shirt, because the universe enjoyed laughing at him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clint said, and made a half-hearted attempt to blot the coffee before he gave up. There was no saving the shirt. Clint morosely wondered if his own pride was still salvageable. He bet not.

“Watch where you’re going,” Barnes responded, because Barnes was an asshole who didn’t care that this was actually _Clint’s_ stadium, thank you very much.

Clint raised his eyebrows. “Well fuck you, too.”

He really should invest in a filter for his mouth before it got him punched.

“You wish,” Barnes said, his lips twitching upward, and Clint gaped for a second before laughing.

“In your _dreams_ ,” he said, even as Barnes gave him a once-over, and promptly walked away in an attempt to have the last word.

“You owe me a new shirt!” Barnes called after him.

“Only after you take it off!” Clint yelled back, then winced. Fuck. Why’d he have to be hot?

Maybe he got more than just the last word.

* * *

Unlike Barnes, who had been playing for the St. Petersburg Hydras since he got drafted five years earlier, Clint had only been with the Avengers for about four months. They signed him as a potential starting pitcher a few weeks before Spring Training, finally relieving him of the anxiety of being a free agent. He came from the American League’s Carson City Clowns, and as such, had yet to face the National League Hydras himself, although he’d sat on the bench and watched them kick his own team’s asses. Now that he was in the same league as the Hydras, he knew he’d be seeing them a lot more often.

He just didn’t think his first meeting with Bucky “the Winter Soldier” Barnes would go quite like it did.

They were both pitching that day, and Clint watched him as he warmed up. Barnes wrapped his prosthetic hand around his right arm and pulled it across his body, stretching out his pitching arm.

Too soon, it was time for the actual game to begin. Clint went through the opening ceremony in a daze, barely able to keep his eyes off of Barnes.

This, he decided, was going to be a problem.

“Barton!” Steve’s voice broke him out of his reverie, and he turned to look at his catcher. Rogers looked back, sternness taking over his face. “Can you concentrate?”

Clint knew that from anyone else, those words would be passive aggressive, but from Steve they only seemed concerned. He nodded.

“Good,” Steve said. He patted Clint’s shoulder, smiling at Clint in what was probably supposed to be a comforting manner. “We’re going to need your best today.”

Clint shook his head, barely suppressing the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him. “You sure know how to cheer people up, don’t you, Cap?”

“… huh?”

Clint shot him a smile and walked to the mound, picking up the rosin bag as he went. He tossed the small white bag up and down a few times before rubbing his fingers against it. He was ready.

Once they got past their warm-up pitches, Clint finally found it easy to let thoughts of Barnes slip away. He struck out the Hydras’ lead-off batter, induced a groundout from the second, and soon enough faced off against their three-hole. The Hydras’ catcher, Johann “Red Skull” Schmidt, walked up to the plate. His face was almost completely hidden behind the red balaclava that he was famous for wearing even in 100 degree weather. Clint wondered if it was a fashion choice he made on impulse, and if now he was just in too deep to take it back.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. Now wasn’t the time to be pondering other players’ fashion, Schmidt was their third batter for a reason. He preceded the clean-up; he was meant to get on base so the next batter could do something about it.

Not that Clint was going to give him the chance.

Clint had just faced a left-handed batter, but Schmidt was a righty. Clint grinned as he switched his glove from his right hand to his left, signaling to the umpire that he was switching his pitching hand. Perks of being ambidextrous. The Pat Venditte rule had just come into play a couple of years ago, a few weeks before Clint himself had made his MLB debut. The rule outlined exactly what Clint could do as a switch pitcher, and switching his pitching hand mid-inning was perfectly fine.

Clint bent down at the waist in a classic pitcher’s pose, his gloved hand hanging at his knees while he tucked the baseball behind his back. He eyed Steve’s fingers as the catcher signaled for a breaking ball low and inside, right by Schmidt’s knees. It was a pitch that Clint, with the control that earned him the name “Hawkeye,” had honed to near perfection.

Even though he already knew it should work, it was incredibly satisfying to watch the Red Skull swing and miss, the ball thumping into Steve’s mitt.

“Strike!” the ump bawled, the call nearly unintelligible in a way only an ump could yell.

Clint followed that pitch with a total of seven more, the Red Skull making him work for the out. Strike, ball, foul, foul, ball, foul.

“Strike!” the ump hollered again, this time accompanied by the classic punch-out motion that came with a strikeout.

Clint pumped his fist. They weren’t in a pinch, it was only the top of the first inning. But he had struck out a player often called the “King of Homers.”

He figured he was allowed to celebrate.

The next several innings passed by relatively quickly for Clint, although he knew that even for regular baseball fans it probably seemed slow. Clint and Barnes pitched scoreless inning after scoreless inning, but despite the lack of runs, Clint’s pitch count racked up quickly. Unlike Barnes, who was a strike-out pitcher, Clint pitched for contact. As a result, Barnes pitched one-two-three innings one after another, sending the Avengers batters back down just after they sent them up. But for Clint, being a contact pitcher meant that balls got past the infield every now and then, and in the fifth inning Clint groaned as he walked the batter, effectively loading the bases for the second time that game.

“Don’t mind!” Pietro called from second base.

“Only one more out!” T’Challa yelled from third.

Clint took a deep breath and held it, nodding before he released his breath with a puff. Like they had before, his eyes found Barnes, who smirked at him from the batter’s box. Barnes, unlike most pitchers, occupied the eight-hole, and was therefore already in the batter’s box instead of in the on-deck circle. A lucky break for the Avengers, as the last batter in the Hydras’ line-up was one of their best, there to act as a lead-off man for their actual lead-off man.

Clint shook his head, and Steve frowned in response. Belatedly, Clint watched the catcher switch signs, and realized that Steve probably thought he’d shaken off the pitch. There was no way to tell him that, though, so Clint just nodded at the second proposed pitch.

Leaning back into his windup, Clint threw the ball and watched as it went high, slipping to the outside corner at the last minute in a perfect cutter. Barnes tried hitting it only to find his swing too short.

Clint threw the same pitch again, and Barnes fouled it off.

Clint breathed out slowly. He had to remember that Barnes was just a pitcher, like him. And not a Babe Ruth type of pitcher, either; Barnes had one of the lowest batting averages in the league, even amongst other pitchers.

 _Ball_.

He wasn’t worth getting anxious about, Clint told himself.

 _Ball two. Two-two count_.

Clint grit his teeth, and the ball went a bit too far inside, forcing Barnes to leap back in order to avoid it.

_Ball three. Three-two, full count._

“C’mon, Barton!” Natasha called, her voice coming from the relative area of the shortstop between second and third base. She sounded annoyed. Clint wondered if she was bothered by the heat or his poor pitching.

Probably both.

“One more!” T’Challa said again, and for once Clint appreciated their third baseman’s royalty training. No sign of annoyance or anxiety from him.

But then again… Natasha only sounded annoyed because she wanted to, Clint realized.

 _Splitter_ , Steve signaled, and Clint nodded. They exclusively threw this pitch to end long at-bats like this one. The way it broke over the plate induced weak contact, usually helpful in getting double plays. Not that they needed one at this point. _Only one more out_.

Barnes grinned at him, his smile visible even from the mound, and Clint snorted. _He’s too relaxed. Let’s make him pay._

The ball left Clint’s hand, slipped from his fingertips and hurtled toward home plate.

Barnes swung, and the baseball bounced into the dirt, flying up right at Clint. The crowd sounded loud in his ears, his teammates even louder, and Clint instinctively reached out with his glove hand.

The ball skidded into his glove, and Clint snatched ahold of it like it was the playoffs, like it wasn’t just the fifth inning of a game in the first month of the season.

One throw, and Wanda grabbed for the ball, reaching to catch it before Barnes got to first. _Thunk_. Barnes stumbled over first base. At home, one of the Hydras’ players crossed the plate and looked back at the scene, hope on his face.

The first base umpire raised his hand in a fist.

“Out!”

Clint felt Pietro jump on his back, practically shrieking as he celebrated. Clint grinned, walking back to the home dugout with his second baseman hanging off of him. He passed Barnes as he went, but looked forward resolutely, determined not to give in to the lure of the other pitcher just after he defeated him.

“Well done,” Fury, the Avengers’ manager, said as Clint trotted down the steps. “And ice that shoulder, you’re done for the day.”

“I’m what?” Clint said, turning around. The weight on his back slipped off, Pietro hurrying away to avoid the tension.

“You’re at 102 pitches already,” Fury pointed out. The corner of his mouth twitched in an uptick. “Did you not notice?”

“… oh.” He hadn’t.

“Hey,” Stark said, draping an arm across Clint’s shoulders. “Don’t look so down; you did good, Hawkeye.”

“I had to throw 100 pitches just to get through five innings,” Clint said. “That’s hardly ace material.”

“Which is why it’s good I’m the ace,” Tony laughed, and then hugged Clint closer when he hunched into himself. “I’m kidding, Clint. You threw 100 pitches in five _scoreless_ innings. That’s the important part. You didn’t just do good. You did great.”

“Sure,” Clint mumbled, and then walked to the furthest corner of the dugout, grabbing his icing bag as he went. Steve clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by, still in his catcher’s gear. It was a bitter reminder, Clint thought, that Barnes was just that much better. Clint had already gone through the Hydras’ rotation three times, but Barnes was only six batters through his second time against their lineup. Rogers, as their fourth batter, would only need to remove his protective gear if their lead-off man got on base.

The rest of the game passed by in a haze.

Clint continually had to force himself to look away from Barnes, especially after a relief pitcher replaced him for the eighth inning. With Barnes no longer pitching on the mound, any excuse Clint used to have for watching him disappeared.

But Barnes was, for lack of a better word, hot. Clint didn’t know if he’d ever thought that about the other pitcher before, but pictures and video of the guy didn’t do him justice. The jawline, the long hair, _those pants_. They created an aesthetic that Clint could appreciate.

And his sass. Clint thought he could maybe fall in love with someone who sassed him like Barnes did.

So, perhaps involuntarily, Clint found his gaze constantly drawn to Barnes. Crush? Or infatuation? He didn’t really know yet.

They entered the bottom of the ninth down 2-1, and Clint watched as Sam “Falcon” Wilson, their center fielder, hit a single to right field with one out. Natasha popped the ball up for the second out. Steve walked into the batter’s box.

And Clint’s eyes, yet again, found Barnes. The other pitcher hung over the railing of the visitor’s dugout, his cap flipped backwards so that the brim stuck out over his dark hair, which hung down to his shoulders. Clint wondered if he ever considered wearing a man-bun. Or a ponytail.

Barnes could probably pull them off, he thought.

“It’s gone!” Thor bellowed, and amongst the ruckus in the dugout, Clint dimly realized that Steve had hit the ball. His feet followed the rest of his team onto the field, where they gathered around home plate, waiting for their captain to reach them. Clint opened his mouth to yell with them - this game broke them out of a five game losing streak - but nothing came out.

All he could do was stare at Barnes, who had begun to stare back at him, holding his gaze. Normally Clint would look away; he had never exactly enjoyed meeting eyes with anyone. But there was something in his eyes. Something that compelled Clint to keep looking back.

Something -

A heavy arm landed across Clint’s shoulders.

“C’mon, Barton!” Tony yelled at him, and Clint felt himself shake with the force of Tony’s enthusiasm, the other pitcher swinging him back and forth. “It’s technically not your win, but you started the game! I figured we could give you part of it!”

“Twelve percent?” Pepper Potts, one of their relievers, asked. Sarcasm coated her tone, but Tony beamed at her.

“Sure!”

The hollering got louder, and Tony abandoned Clint to the team in favor of grabbing Steve’s jersey. The captain yelled back just as loud, literally leaping into the mass of players surrounding home plate. Some of them went down, but they all got back up just as quickly, still jumping and yelling and celebrating the walk-off. Rogers jogged out of the crowd laughing, trying to swipe Tony off his back, but Stark hung on.

Clint turned back to the visiting team’s dugout, searching for Barnes.

All he caught was a glimpse of the number on his back as he walked away.

* * *

@maxi-stop: that pick-off, though. hot damn

    | @avenge_me: wanda maximoff could step on my face and i’d say thanks.

    | @thestrikezone: could i be first base for like… a day

    | @avenge_me: not if i get there first.

    | @maxi-stop: @avenge_me was that supposed to be a pun

* * *

Manhattan Avengers @official_avengers

    Rogers hits one deep to center! 3-2 win #walk-off #captainamerica #homerun

    | Kiyoko Masuko @kmasuko retweeted

        Only the best from my Captain

* * *

Clint spent the next two months doing his best to avoid mentions of Barnes. Not that it worked.

He turned on the TV, intending to watch his brother pitch for the Clowns, only to discover that Barnes was the opposing pitcher.

He looked on MLB.com for new baseball news to find that Barnes had been voted the NL Pitcher of the Month.

He walked into his favorite sports bar to see a new picture hanging by the door, Steve and Barnes draped over each other with grins on their faces despite their different uniforms.

Clint just couldn’t get away. Even in his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about the other pitcher.

 _Don’t do this to yourself again_ , Clint told himself.

But nothing worked.

* * *

The next time they met, two months after their first meeting, was in St. Petersburg, Florida. There, in Hydra territory, they bowed to the structure of the Major League schedule. They would only face each other in three series that season, and although their spots in the rotation hadn’t moved, they also hadn’t played the same number of games yet. This meant that they didn’t match up as opposing pitchers like they did the last time.

Clint watched from the bench as the Hydras got to Hope “the Wasp” van Dyne, yanking six runs out from under the Avengers in just the first inning.

Barnes, on the other hand, pitched five perfect innings. And when Clint said “perfect,” he didn’t just mean figuratively perfect. He meant baseball perfect: no hits, no runs, no walks, no hit-by-pitches. Romanoff was the first one to reach base, getting a blooper single to right against the shift to lead off the sixth inning. Rogers grounded into a double play, as if to remind them that even he wasn’t invincible, and Odinson struck out swinging to end the inning.

Thor groaned and tossed his batting gloves onto the bench. “I can’t figure out that pitch.”

“We’ll get it eventually,” Parker said, optimistic as usual, but Clint glanced at the score as the Hydras’ lead-off batter stepped into the on-deck circle. 6-0. The Wasp hadn’t given up any more runs since the first inning, but their offense had yet to make a dent.

In the end, they only made one: Okoye, pinch hitting for one of their relievers in the top of the eighth inning, powered a solo home-run out of the park. As she crossed home plate, she crossed her arms over her chest in a silent salute to her home country of Wakanda.

As if to worsen the pain further, the Hydras’ offense came alive again in the bottom of the eighth, taking two more runs.

The Avengers sent three more batters to the plate. All three came back with heads low.

The game ended 8-1, the largest loss that they’d suffered in weeks.

Clint didn’t bother looking for Barnes this time; he knew where the other pitcher was. It was his first complete game, and he stood on the mound, still celebrating, when Clint left for the locker room.

It turned out that he didn’t need to look anyway - Barnes found him at a bar just an hour later.

“I don’t recommend drinking the night before you pitch.”

Clint lifted his head to glance back at whoever had spoken, only to hang it again when he saw who it was. “Come to gloat?”

Barnes shook his head. “No. I saw you through the window… You shouldn’t be drinking.”

“I’m not.” Clint looked back at him again, then lifted the glass, tilting it. “Sprite.”

The other pitcher just looked at him.

Clint put the glass back down. “Why the sudden concern?”

Barnes shrugged. “Call it pitcher solidarity.”

“What is it really?”

“Maybe if tonight goes well, I’ll tell you,” Barnes said, and his lips quirked a bit, like he was trying to smile.

Clint raised his eyebrows. It almost sounded like the other pitcher was flirting with him. Then he waved a hand at the seat next to him. “You can sit, you know. I won’t stop you.”

“Even though I beat you today?”

Clint shrugged. “I’ll try not to hold it against you.”

Barnes nodded, slow, steady as his windup. Clint wondered if he’d always been this way, or if it was something that came with the war. Something that grew with him overseas, until it brought itself back with him in replacement of his left arm. When he sat, Clint tried to focus on his words instead. Clint didn’t like talking about his past, and he figured Barnes was probably the same way.

They didn’t talk much. Instead, they bumped shoulders as they watched the TV nearby. It was the bottom of the twelfth, and Sue Storm doubled Reed Richards in for the winning run. Twelve innings, but it was a win. Not even too bad inning-wise, considering some of the other extra-inning games that Clint had watched. Clint wondered, not for the first time, if the Avengers would have preferred to power in seven more runs only to go into extra innings, the score tied. Or maybe the way they went out was more merciful in the long run, when they didn’t need to pray that the extra innings would actually be fruitful.

At some point Clint ordered a basket of chips. He reached out, intending to take a couple, only for their fingers to touch. He looked down to find both of their hands in the basket, both absentmindedly reaching for the same chip in some bizarre parallel of a romance movie. Clint’s life wasn’t a romance movie, far from it. And yet Barnes brushed his fingers closer until their pinkies touched at the knuckle.

Clint was suddenly all too aware of how close their faces were. If one of them leaned in, their lips would touch.

Clint closed his eyes. Something shuffled from Barnes’s direction, and together they bent into each other. Chapped lips touched Clint’s.

Except those lips belonged to a rival pitcher. He couldn’t. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Not after last time.

Clint was off his barstool and halfway across the room before he had time to think of anything else.

“Barton, wait!”

Clint could hear the other pitcher yelling after him, the rest of the bar embarrassingly silent. It wasn’t until he reached the subway, two blocks away, that he realized that not only had he forgotten to pay, but he’d left his official team jacket hanging on the back of his bar stool.

He got on the train without turning back. It wasn’t like he could face Barnes again anyway.

* * *

Clint spent the night watching Winter Soldier videos, trying to convince himself that the guy was actually a terrible person and not worth losing sleep over. Not worth _pining_ over.

“Go figure,” Clint mumbled. He scratched Lucky’s head, the dog leaning against his leg while he researched. He buried his head in his arm. “He’s perfect.”

Barnes hadn’t just been drafted by the Hydras; he was Cap’s best friend - at least according to Steve, and that should have warned Clint before the videos did of just how perfect Barnes was. His best pitch was the fastball, a wicked thing with pinpoint accuracy. He finished 75% of his strikeouts with that pitch. It was so fast that even if the batter knew it was coming, they still couldn’t keep up.

But what really dug Clint into the hole he’d fallen into were the interviews, the ones where he shed his cold Winter Soldier persona in favor of a warmer character. He barely smiled, but it didn’t hide his love for the game.

“Lucky,” Clint groaned. His dog whined in response. “This plan backfired.”

Barnes was no longer just another good-looking baseball player.

He was a good-looking baseball player with personality.

And Clint was sunk, because his heart couldn’t deny this guy. He would just have to rely on his head instead.

* * *

Clint got to the ballpark early the next morning. The game wouldn’t start till 7:05 that night, but he had a routine to keep. Or at least, a routine to _attempt_.

Barnes greeted him at the player entrance, bags under his eyes and still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

It was only nine in the morning. Clint’s team jacket hung over Barnes’s arm.

“God, please tell me you didn’t sleep out here,” Clint said, and walked past the other pitcher to continue on his way.

“No,” Barnes said. Clint let out a breath. “I slept on the team bus.”

Even Clint couldn’t help but turn around at that, his mouth gaping.

“Joking,” Barnes said quickly, and his mouth quirked as he put his jacket-less hand up. “Just wanted to make sure I could get this back to you, so I got here early.”

“Didn’t have to be in person,” Clint said, but took the jacket back anyway. He shook it out, smoothed it down, and then pretended to inspect it just so he didn’t have to look Barnes in the eye.

“Guess not.”

Clint wondered if Barnes was shrugging as he talked, or if he was so stoic he didn’t feel the need to.

“Thanks.” Clint hitched his shoulders up in a half shrug, then turned and walked away.

Again. That was the second time.

Clint hoped Barnes would just take the hint and stop making him do this. _They were rivals_. This couldn’t work.

Clint kept telling himself that even as Barnes’s stare bore into his heart.

* * *

The other Avengers trickled into the stadium one by one. With each additional teammate, Clint wondered if they would see the guilt and anguish written over his face, but no one commented.

“Tough night?” Natasha asked, and Steve patted him on the back, but that was it. Clint forced a smile and laughed, pointing toward the locker room each time.

“Just wait till you see Thor’s hair,” he said. “It’ll scar you, too.”

After their loss from the night before, Thor returned to the park with his long locks sheared off, spikes left in their place.

“Visited a barber first thing this morning,” he said proudly, even as he raked a mournful hand through what was left. “Thought we might need a change.”

“You’re too superstitious,” Tony said.

“Or not enough,” Loki jousted. “You should have shaved the whole head.”

“Settle down,” Steve said, his voice loud. It echoed through the room and shut everyone up, even Thor, who looked ready to defend his hair even to his brother. “Yesterday was a tough loss, but that just means tonight will have a bigger impact. So let’s get out there and win!”

* * *

Spoiler alert: Clint didn’t know if they could actually win with him on the mound. He loaded the bases in the first inning, gave up two runs in the second, committed an error in the third, and by the fourth inning the Avengers still had yet to score a run even though they had had seven base runners. And it all happened while Clint was trying and failing to take his eyes off of Barnes.

It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to keep looking at him, but the other pitcher kept staring at Clint with these soulful eyes that somehow made him think Barnes was cheering him on even though they were on opposing teams.

Clint tried to focus on the current batter, a guy named Trojak. Clint’s gaze caught movement in the Hydras’ dugout at the last second, and he automatically found Barnes even as he instinctively began his pitch.

The ball left Clint’s hand slightly too late.

Spoiler alert two point oh: Clint threw a screwball, a pitch that went down and in to left-handed batters.

Spoiler alert two point five: Trojak was a left-handed batter.

The ball plunked Trojak right on the upper thigh. Luckily for Trojak, there wouldn’t be any major damage - only bruising - and he would take first base to boot.

Unluckily for Clint, Trojak was the one who hit the two-run homer in the second inning. And the upper thigh was the easiest place to intentionally hit the guy.

In seconds, Trojak charged the mound, waving his bat like he meant to hit Clint with it.

“It was a fair homer!” Trojak roared, “It’s not my fault you’re a bad pitcher!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Clint yelled, and scrambled back off the mound.

Steve grabbed for Trojak’s arm, but the other player shook him off easily. All around them, yells erupted from the stands and the dugouts as the benches emptied. Natasha shoved Clint behind her as if she fully intended to shield him with her own body. Clint figured maybe she did, but he was still too shocked to do anything about it.

Someone else grabbed Clint’s bicep, and he turned with the motion only to run face first into the other person’s fist. He crumpled to the ground with the Hydra player on top of him, both of them rolling around the mound.

“Get off of him!” someone yelled, their voice familiar, but Clint couldn’t make out who it was. Water roared in his ears, but he knew fighting back would only get him tossed from the game, or worse, mess up his hands so he couldn’t pitch. Instead he curled up, taking each punch that the opposing player threw.

Finally, the weight disappeared from his back and someone hauled him to his feet.

Rhodey and Sam stood in front of Clint, worried looks on their faces. Thor held a Hydra player at bay with one hand, gripping the back of the other player’s jersey. Clint guessed that it was whoever had tackled him.

“You okay?” someone else asked, and Clint turned to see Scott next to him, examining him for injuries.

“Yeah,” Clint managed. “I’m… I didn’t mean to hit him.”

“We know,” Sam said, and gripped Clint’s shoulder in what he guessed was meant to be support. “It’s not your fault that you hit Bloodstream. Dude is always looking for a fight.”

Steve approached then, his face troubled. “Fury wants to know if you can still pitch. If not, that’s fine, but…”

“But our relievers need rest,” Clint finished, and finally straightened up. “Don’t worry, Cap. I can pitch.”

“No, Clint,” Rhodey protested. “We can handle it.”

Clint shook his head. “I can do it. At least let me get through the fifth.”

“The fifth,” Steve agreed. “And no further.”

Clint nodded, and everyone turned away, Sam giving his shoulder one last parting squeeze.

And then Barnes was there.

Clint paused. He was right next to the mound so he didn’t really have that far of a walk, but the other pitcher still had to walk all the way back to his dugout. Then Barnes stopped, too.

“Maybe next time, don’t hit the guy who thinks everything is personal,” he joked.

Clint shrugged, a bit uncomfortable with joking around after what happened the previous night. “Pretty sure Bloodstream’s the only one who thought it intentional. And whoever tackled me.”

Barnes nodded, glancing back to his dugout as he grew serious again. “They both got ejected.”

Clint nodded back and fiddled with the baseball in his hands, glancing up to meet the other’s pitcher’s eyes and then looking back down.

“Flirt later!” Natasha yelled, and Clint blushed hard enough to feel the heat rise in his own cheeks.

“I’m not -” he tried, but Barnes smirked.

“We are.”

Clint bit his lip, then shrugged his shoulders awkwardly in agreement.

“Um,” Clint started, and then stopped. _They were rivals_ . But not in the same division? They had that going for them right? _Rivals. Don’t forget what happened last time._ But only pitchers. _They were only pitchers last time, too_. “We’re rivals,” he finally blurted out.

“So?”

One of the umpires started walking toward them, an annoyed look on his face, and Steve’s stare burned into Clint’s side, telling him to hurry it up.

“Go out with me?” The words spilled over his lips like water over rocks, bidden only by nature and an outside, hidden force. Of _what_ force, Clint didn’t know yet, but Barnes grinned and waved off the ump, starting towards his own dugout. He bumped Clint’s shoulder as he went, a playful shove that went straight - or not so straight, as it were - to Clint’s heart.

“Sure,” he said, turning to walk backwards and talk to Clint at the same time. “As long as you don’t run away like last time.”

* * *

Sarah L @pitchtome

    @thor41odinson cut his hair and i’m crying

* * *

@hawkeye2rd: daily reminder that clinton francis barton deserves the world, k thanks

    | @tony-stank: could he not give up so many runs though

    | @hawkeye2rd: did i fucking ask

    | @bartoned: DAILY REMINDER THAT CLINTON FRANCIS BARTON DESERVES THE WORLD, K THANKS

    | @avenge_me: @tony-stank i’ll fight you

* * *

@bbarnes: Is it just me or is the field sizzling from all that ust. I mean wow, I can feel it from my couch. Did something happen between them? #bucky barnes #st. petersburg hydras #clint barton #manhattan avengers #mlb

    | @bartoned: omg no you’re not imagining things. someone get them a room

* * *

They won the game. They as in the Avengers, which was a miracle to be honest. Clint proceeded to strike out the next three batters in the fourth inning, leaving Bloodstream’s pinch runner stranded at first. Then he singled in the top of the fifth, scored one of their three runs, and finished off the bottom of the fifth inning with a double play. They went on to win 4-2, Rhodey’s save.

Clint left the post-game celebration early and propped himself against his purple Ducati motorcycle. He carefully arranged all of his limbs in an attempt to look more relaxed than he felt. Legs crossed at the ankles, he used one hand to toss a baseball while the other played with his phone.

Clint heard sneakers scuff across the concrete, drawing his attention up a pair of sweatpants and a tight compression shirt, past a pair of lips, to Barnes’s eyes.

“Hey,” Barnes said.

Clint swallowed, trying not to look back down at where the other pitcher’s abs stood out so prominently. “Hi.”

“So…”

Suddenly Clint could clearly visualize what happened the night before. How he ran away, how Barnes called after him, how he left Barnes to pick up a jacket and check that weren’t his. He picked at his jacket, embarrassed. “Um…”

Barnes scraped his shoe back on the ground, shifting his weight, and Clint scratched the back of his neck, nervous.

“Drinks?” Barnes said finally.

Clint nodded.

“Cool. Do you wanna -” Barnes gestured at Clint’s motorcycle. Clint looked back at it, uncomprehending, before understanding suddenly dawned on him.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said, and bolted upright, accidentally dropping both his phone and the baseball. He grabbed his phone off the ground, brushing it off and wincing at the newly cracked screen.

Clint looked up to find Barnes chasing the ball for him.

“No,” Clint whispered, and shut his eyes tightly. “ _Please tell me the Winter Soldier isn’t chasing my baseball._ ” He opened his eyes, but Barnes was still on all fours, making one last futile grab for the ball before it dropped through the drainage opening on the curb. Both pitchers watched, frozen, and listened as a distinct _splash_ sounded from below.

Barnes turned back to Clint, slow, and looked up with regret already written over his face. “That wasn’t like…”

“Valuable?” Clint asked, and Barnes nodded. “No. No, it… I’m so sorry.”

“What for? I’m the one who lost the ball.”

“I’m the one who _dropped_ it. And you didn’t have to chase it. I’m so sorry.”

Barnes stood up and brushed his hands and knees off, already smiling. “How about you get me drinks to make up for it then?”

Clint sputtered. “I thought you said -”

Barnes grinned, and Clint groaned back.

“Alright, Mr. Reverse Psychology. Drinks. You have a place?”

“How about we redo last night?” Barnes asked, and Clint winced.

“I’m sorry for that, too.”

“I figured.”

“Uh,” Clint started, and then waved a hand at his bike. “Hop on, I guess?”

* * *

Clint spent the ride to the bar reveling in the warmth at his back. Barnes wrapped both arms around Clint’s torso and didn’t let go, his heavy breath tickling Clint’s neck and his front flush with Clint’s back. When they finally arrived, Clint didn’t want to move, but Barnes patted his shoulder twice and then swung his legs off the back.

Clint looked up to see Barnes offering him his hand, a smile on his face.

“Such a gentleman,” he laughed, taking it.

Barnes lifted him off his bike as his grin widened. “I’m only trying to be polite.”

“Do you hold the door open, too?” Clint asked, and the two started toward the front entrance.

“When I can.”

He snagged the door handle and swept the door open with an exaggerated bow. “Then allow me.”

He looked up only to see Barnes grabbing the next door that led from the entryway into the proper bar. “Did you forget there was a second door?”

Clint laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked through the doorway. “Is everything a competition with you, Barnes?”

At that, Barnes stopped. Clint looked back, puzzled, to find the other pitcher halfway in the bar, halfway out, still holding the door open.

“What’s wrong?”

Barnes let the door fall shut behind him, stepping fully into the room. “You called me Barnes.”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” Clint laughed, but the good feeling was already gone. In its place, nerves churned in his gut. _He messed up_ . _This would end up just like last time. What did he do wrong?_

Barnes stared at him, something heavy in his gaze. “Call me Bucky.”

“What?”

“Or James,” Barnes said as he shrugged. “Just… not Barnes. We’re not rivals. Not like this. Not off the field.”

Not… off the field. Clint blinked, stunned. _Not rivals_. Last time he did this, they never bothered to distinguish a break between the game and the rest of their lives. But now, he wasn’t breaking some unnamed rule.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Say it,” Barnes demanded, his gaze still heavy. His hand reached for Clint’s, holding it in his own. Clint remembered feeling nervous just because they touched knuckles the night before, but this felt… warm. Steady. _Right_.

“Okay,” Clint said. “Bucky.”

“Clint,” Bucky said back, and he felt the warmth spread from his hand to his chest, and then up to his cheeks. Bucky laughed. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” Clint defended, even though he knew he was.

“You are,” Bucky argued. His hand held Clint’s even tighter, as if trying to reassure him. Clint didn’t know what for. He was embarrassed, sure. But safe. Comfortable.

“Maybe so,” he admitted, and squeezed Bucky’s hand back.

* * *

Clint dropped Bucky off at his apartment, getting ready to head back to his own hotel. Bucky climbed off the bike with one hand on Clint’s shoulder, then leaned in close.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmured, his lips just inches away from Clint’s.

Clint nodded, slightly stunned, and he felt yet another blush begin to creep onto his cheeks. Bucky closed the distance slowly, giving Clint time to pull away, but finally their lips touched.

Bucky’s lips weren’t chapped this time. They felt soft, and tasted like the pizza they’d shared earlier. Clint fell deeper into the kiss and awkwardly clutched at one of Bucky’s hips, his other hand strangling his bike handle. Bucky’s prosthetic gripped at Clint’s shoulder while his other hand touched Clint’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over Clint’s cheek.

It was a short kiss, but when they parted, Clint found his heart pounding.

Bucky grinned and moved back, his hand still hovering at Clint’s jawline. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Clint whispered back, the words shaking with his breath. Dammit, how was Bucky so calm? He didn’t even seem fazed.

Bucky’s grin widened, as if he knew what Clint was thinking, and then he turned to walk inside. Before he opened the front door, he turned and gave a final wave. Then he disappeared, along with any hope Clint had that he could resist his charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up for now. I'm having trouble posting the second chapter because it uses emojis, and apparently I need a custom workskin for that. I'm working on it, but it may be a while. If you saw the first chapter two before I deleted it, I'm so sorry. That is *not* the actual chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got the emojis! Also just a quick note to say that single quotation marks represent text messages.

Clint and Bucky spent the next month and a half texting back and forth. With Clint in Manhattan and Bucky in Florida, it was really all they could do to keep in touch, as even their away games never took them close enough to meet in person.

‘there are 3 teams in this city,’ Clint complained once. ‘u’d think the hydras could make it here at some point’

‘There’re 3 teams in Florida,’ Bucky texted back. ‘How about you come south? I’ll be in NYC in August, anyway.’

‘true ❤️’

‘(Face Throwing A Kiss )’

* * *

‘hey i saw the hbp, u ok?’ Clint typed and retyped the words several times, trying to figure out a good way of phrasing the question. He switched between capitalization and non-capitalization, wondering if he should let on how worried he was or if he should stick with his typical way of texting. Finally, he figured that Bucky didn’t need to worry about Clint, too, and just sent the text. As soon as he pressed _send_ , Clint threw his phone to the other side of his hotel bed.

“You okay?” Scott asked, amusement coloring his voice.

Clint jumped. He’d forgotten that his teammate and fellow starting pitcher was in the room, hanging out on his own bed.

“Yeah,” Clint said.

His phone buzzed and Clint dove for it, making Scott laugh.

‘All good,’ Bucky texted back, and Clint breathed a sigh of relief. ‘How was your game?’

‘good (Smiling Face With Smiling Eyes ) _,_ ’ Clint said. ‘tony only gave up 2 hits. yankees didn’t know what hit em’

‘Screw the Yanks. (Smiling Face With Open Mouth And Smiling Eyes )’

‘(Smiling Face With Sunglasses )’

* * *

‘look at my dog,’ Clint texted, and attached a picture to go with it. Lucky stared up at the camera in adoration, chest to the floor and butt in the air with his tail mid-wag.

‘He’s cute!!’

‘i’m telling him everything u say, so compliment him more _._ ’ Clint scratched Lucky’s ear as he waited. Clint lay on the couch with his phone resting on his chest, Lucky’s chin propped next to him with his wet nose pressed to Clint’s side.

‘I don’t do well under pressure.’

‘ur stats say otherwise’

‘But your dog’s heart is on the line.’

‘his name’s lucky,’ Clint said.

‘Did you name him for how lucky I was to meet you?’

Clint flushed.

‘i said compliment him, not me!’

* * *

Clint’s phone buzzed while he was on break in the bullpen, all of the pitchers switching back and forth as they practiced. He took a final sip of water and turned his phone on.

‘Only 1 more week, you ready?’ Bucky texted.

Clint grinned, and Valkyrie, who sat a few feet away with her own water bottle, wiggled her eyebrows at Clint.

“Who’s making you laugh like that?” She leaned forward. “Does Hawkeye have a giiiirlfriend?”

“Ew, don’t say it like that.” Clint laughed and pushed Brunnhilde’s face away. “And no, no he doesn’t.”

“No talking in the third person!” Kate said.

“Pay attention, Bishop!” Steve called back, and the other Hawkeye snapped back to position.

“Boyfriend then?” Brunnhilde asked. She added another eyebrow wiggle at the end, making Clint groan.

“Go bother Tony.”

“I would love to, but he’s pitching right now. You aren’t, and you didn’t answer my question.”

Clint stared at her, refusing to give in.

Finally, she sighed. “You’ve basically answered my question, so, fine.” She pointed at Clint even as she got up to continue pitching. “I’ll get a real answer out of you someday.”

Clint saluted her. “Counting on it.”

He turned back to his phone, already knowing what to say.

‘yep, can’t wait!’ he texted. He debated with himself, but finally tacked on an emoji. ‘❤️’

'❤️,' Bucky sent back.

* * *

‘Outside!’ Bucky texted, and somehow that one word sent Clint’s heart into a tailspin.

He bolted up from where he sat on the couch, but the oven started beeping right at that moment, causing him to freeze.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He turned from the door to the oven, then back to the door, his phone still clenched in one hand.

Eventually Clint raced to the front door and flung it open, throwing on a strained smile.

“Hi,” Bucky started, then frowned. “Is something beeping?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, and waved Bucky inside as he finally went for the oven. “Sorry, it went off right when I got your text, and I had to choose.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, instead leaning against the kitchen counter while Clint pulled on oven mitts and then took the dish out of the oven. When Clint turned to look at the other pitcher, Bucky smiled. “So you chose me over food? High praise.”

“I…” Clint paused to think about it. “I mean. Yes?”

Bucky laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You almost make me feel special.”

“I should hope so,” Clint said, and stepped closer to Bucky. “I am your boyfriend, after all.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed. “That sounds nice.”

“What?”

“You calling me your boyfriend.”

“It’s true, right?” Clint stepped even closer. Another step and they would be chest to chest.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, voice soft. This time Bucky was the one to step in, and Clint leaned in with him.

Just as their lips brushed, meeting for the first time since they’d kissed each other good night a month and a half ago, something soft, furry, and very much alive shoved its way between them. A long, wet tongue scraped over Clint’s nose and mouth, and paws scrambled for purchase against his stomach.

“Aw, Lucky, no,” Clint groaned, pulling back from his dog’s tongue and letting Lucky slip to the ground, where he immediately darted to the other man for attention.

Bucky laughed, and Clint grinned in response.

“He’s even cuter in person,” Bucky said, flopping Lucky’s ears back and forth.

“He’s the cutest,” Clint agreed. Lucky’s tail, which was already wagging, moved even faster as if he actually understood them. Clint watched them play together for a few minutes, a smile on his face before he remembered why Bucky had actually come over. “Uh, dinner?”

“Sure,” Bucky said easily. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Yep,” Clint said. He pointed at the dinner table. “You can sit and let me take care of you.”

“Aren’t you the one pitching tomorrow?” Bucky asked, but he moved toward the table all the same.

“You pitched today,” Clint pointed out.

“And you were traveling all day.” Bucky glanced back at Clint, his right hand beginning to fidget with his prosthetic in what Clint guessed was a nervous tick. “Let me do something?”

Clint paused. On the one hand, he really did want Bucky to just rest. But on the other, he couldn’t deny his boyfriend something when he so obviously just wanted to help out. “Set the table?”

“Done.” Bucky grinned at Clint, his eyes lightening with his smile. On his way to grab napkins and silverware, the other pitcher leaned in to peck Clint on the cheek.

 _Domestic_ , Clint thought, and rested back against the counter to watch Bucky walk to the table. Lucky sat against Clint’s leg and he looked down at the dog, who was also watching Bucky. _So domestic_.

Clint was halfway to getting cliché about the night when another alarm went off, startling him into rescuing their potatoes.

* * *

They fell asleep on the couch after dinner, the latest episode of _Dog Cops_ still turned on with Lucky draped on the floor nearby. Clint woke up an hour later, thoughts about how bad it would be to pitch with a stiff neck running through his mind. He started to get up, heading back to his nice, comfy bed, but the weight of Bucky’s head on his shoulder stopped him.

Instead, he situated himself so that he lay lengthwise on the couch, his feet propped up over the arm. He drew Bucky down with him and rested one arm over his torso. Bucky mumbled at the contact, the faint sound reminding Clint to remove his hearing aids.

“Please don’t eat them,” Clint told Lucky, who slept right through Clint’s drowsy, still half-asleep plea. As he placed his aids on the coffee table, he spotted Bucky’s prosthetic already on it, his boyfriend apparently having anticipated falling asleep.

Clint dozed back off to the rumbling vibration of Bucky’s snores and the smell of Bucky’s hair.

Just before he fell asleep completely, Clint felt Bucky’s arm curl tighter around his waist.

* * *

They woke up late, so late that they piled onto Clint’s bike together. The Avengers’ stadium was closer, so Clint made Bucky promise that he actually _would_ pick Clint up after the game, that the other pitcher wouldn’t leave Clint stranded, and let Bucky drop him off.

Bucky drove off on _Clint’s_ motorcycle, but Clint couldn’t help but think _our_.

 _Domestic_ , he thought agains. Somehow, it felt right.

* * *

“Clint, did _Bucky Barnes_ just drop you off?!”

“… heh,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his head with one hand.

“Don’t ‘heh’ me, Hawkeye!” Tony cried, and Clint looked back to find the other pitcher following him to their locker room. “I want details!”

“And you’ll keep wanting them!” Clint called back.

* * *

The next month passed by slowly and quickly at the same time, the Avengers gaining momentum as they advanced in their division, but Clint got more restless with each week he didn’t see Bucky in person. They skyped, of course, and texted each other every day, but it wasn’t the same.

Suddenly, all of his previous partner’s complaints made sense. Clint was having trouble with different problems this time around. Before, the rivalry didn’t bother him and neither did the long distance. Now, Clint knew his rivalry with Bucky would come to a head eventually, but they struggled with the distance, and that struggle would always happen unless they were either on the same team, or based in the same area.

‘maybe we should transfer,’ Clint typed. His thumb hovered over the ‘send’ button for a minute as he thought about the possible consequences, about how maybe he was moving too fast, but finally he sent it.

‘Transfer where?’

‘i dunno. it’s not like no1’s close to each other. we could go nats/o’s. or u could b traded 2 ny. or me 2 florida. or we could pick like.. any of the 5 teams in cali. how’d they get that many teams anyway. who decided that was legal???’

The dots showing that Bucky was typing appeared and disappeared stagnantly, and Clint fidgeted. Either his boyfriend couldn’t figure out what to say, or he was laughing about the random direction Clint’s reasoning had taken.

But hey, it wasn’t Clint’s fault. There were _five_ major league baseball teams in California. _Five_ . That was too many, and he was saying that as a player for one of three teams in the same city (which _was_ overkill, he admitted).

‘You do know there are 3 teams in NYC, right?’ Bucky texted, and Clint groaned.

‘duh, but at least i acknowledge it’s ridiculous. unlike any1 in cali. and we’r in 3 dif boroughs, that counts for something’

‘Before this spirals into… something… can we agree to talk when we meet up next week? We can discuss the whole trade/signing with a different team deal then.’

‘sure,’ Clint said. ‘can’t wait 2 c u then! (Purple Heart )’

‘… It’s purple.’

‘y yes. yes it is (Purple Heart )’

* * *

They didn’t get the chance to talk before the first game of their September series in Manhattan. The Avengers had already clinched their division, their eyes on 100 wins for the first time in franchise history. The Hydras, second in their division, were practically shoe-ins for the playoffs. They would either win the division by a slim margin, or take the first wildcard slot by a landslide. Personally, Clint hoped they would take the division. At least then the Cardinals only had a slim chance via the wildcard.

But even with the other team needing wins to beat their division, Clint thought there was too much tension for a regular season game. They all still had another 9 or 10 games left to play, and the Hydras were only 1.5 games back of the Cardinals. They had plenty of time to make up the distance.

From the dugout, Clint glanced at the visiting team. Bucky sat back on the bench, his face tight. With what, Clint couldn’t tell. But then Bucky looked around at his team, his face pinched even more, and Clint suddenly made the connection. Whatever the tension was for, Bucky didn’t know, either.

* * *

@thestrikezone: (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) give (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) tony (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) more (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) run (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) support (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) you (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands) cowards (Clapping Hands Sign ≊ Clapping Hands)

    | @thestrikezone: ... thank you

* * *

They won the game 5-4, Tony barely collecting the win when Wanda hit the go-ahead single in the bottom of the seventh. Loki replaced him in the top of the eighth, with Rhodey getting the save.

As soon as they were off the field, Clint ignored the surprised shouts from behind him as he sprinted through their clubroom, heading for the opposite side of the park. Halfway there, he collided with somebody else. Clint stumbled, about to fall backwards, but a strong hand closed around his wrist and he stayed standing.

He looked up, ready to spit out a hasty thanks and apology and be on his way, only to find Bucky staring back at him.

“ _Buck_ ,” Clint breathed, and then they fell into each other, clutching one another as tightly as they could. Bucky pressed a kiss to the corner of Clint’s mouth, but Clint was smiling too brightly to return it, caught up in both the adrenaline of his team’s win and the exhilaration of seeing his boyfriend for the first time in a month.

“Hi,” Bucky said.

“You think you’re so cool, don’t you?” Clint asked, but his smile never dimmed.

Bucky grinned back. “Naw, then I’d have to disagree with my boyfriend, and I’d never want to do that.”

“Huh?”

“Pretty sure _he_ thinks I’m hot.”

Clint gaped at him, then laughed. “You win that one, Barnes. That was so cheesy, I can’t even give it a proper response.”

“You like me that way, though.”

Something fluttered in Clint’s chest. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

As he leaned in to kiss Bucky, he wondered if the something in his chest was happiness.

He hoped it was.

* * *

Back in Clint’s apartment, they curled up on the couch together, cold pizza in hand and _Les Miserables_ playing on the TV. Lucky sat by their feet, his tail still and his one working eye watchful, as if he understood something that they didn’t. Or something that _Clint_ didn’t, he figured, because Bucky kept giving Lucky anxious looks. At first Clint thought that maybe he hadn’t seen the musical yet, but then Marius fell in love with a single look, and Bucky snorted with the mix of irritation and amusement that only a well-seasoned _Les Miserables_ fan could pull off. Clint used to pull it off, too, but now he wasn’t too sure. He thought of Marius and Cosette, separated by a single fence but still singing of their love for each other, and figured that maybe they weren’t too different. The fictional characters just had a more physical fence keeping them apart.

Point being, Bucky wasn’t nervous about the movie. Clint let it continue, but finally, well into the barricade scenes, he muted the TV.

“You seem off,” he said, and peered at Bucky. “Everything okay?”

The other pitcher shrugged, bumping shoulders with Clint and offering a half-smile. “The whole team feels weird right now, that’s all…”

“Because you’re about to clinch? You only need a few wins, right?” Clint fidgeted. “Or because you’re afraid you’ll be stuck with the wildcard?”

But Bucky shook his head. “No, I know what that feels like. This… it’s something different. I’ve been with the Hydras for six seasons now, something feels wrong.”

Clint frowned and settled back, crossing one leg in front of himself with the other hanging over the edge of the couch. This way, he could look directly at Bucky. “What kind of wrong?”

“Like…” Bucky paused, staring at the TV. On screen, Eponine fell into Marius’s arms after taking the bullet meant for him. “I’m not sure. Everyone just seemed really upset when Steve didn’t start today.”

“We’ve already clinched our division,” Clint pointed out. “Everyone’s getting off days, that’s just how it works. Tell them to stop wearing their underwear too tight and get over it.”

Bucky laughed, finally smiling. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

Clint grinned back. “Not if I can help it. Kiss me?”

“Only if it’ll shut you up,” Bucky said, and dragged him forward until they met in the middle, lips touching.

* * *

Valkyrie took the mound against Barnes the next morning, and the whole park was buzzing. No-one, though, was as anxious as the Hydras seemed to be. They moved in and out of their dugout, unable to stay still. Clint made an attempt to talk with Bucky, catching the other pitcher on his way to the bullpen, but Bucky took one look at him and sprinted the rest of the way, leaving Clint in a confused standstill in the middle of the field. Bucky had left early the previous night, knowing that he should sleep in his own bed before pitching. But now his demeanor had, somehow, completely changed in the twelve hours since Clint had last seen him.

“Boyfriend troubles?” Steve asked, making Clint jump. He hadn’t even heard his catcher’s clunky gear come up behind him, he was so anxious.

“What?”

Steve looked at him, a strange mix of amusement and confusion coloring his face. “Buck’s my best friend, Clint, and you’re my pitcher. I can read a situation when I see it.”

“Oh.”

“Not your fault,” Steve said, and patted him on the shoulder. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Clint shook his head as they continued their walk to the bullpen. “Cap, I don’t even know. He was worried about his teammates last night, but he left my place pretty calmed down. Now he’s literally running away from me.” His face twisted as he tried to think of what may have happened. “I just want to help him, Steve.”

Cap nodded. “I know, Clint. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Clint nodded back. Part of him wanted to protest, but Steve had his official patented Cap game face on, somehow giving off both confidence and reassurance - the look that said he had everything under control. No one could argue against that look. “Okay, Cap.”

* * *

Nothing was under control. Clint didn’t like dumpsters much, but he actively wanted to crawl into one at that moment.

As soon as the announcers read off the Avengers’ lineup, the whole atmosphere of the Hydras’ dugout changed. Suddenly, it felt less like they were anxious about the game, and more like they were out for blood. The only one who still seemed anxious was Bucky.

Valkyrie went out and pitched a one-two-three inning, getting three outs in quick succession. She walked off the mound with a grin and shoved her biceps in Banner’s face.

“Read it and weep, boys.”

Bruce’s nose wrinkled, almost going cross-eyed with his proximity to Brunnhilde. “Read what?”

“The registration for these guns!” she crowed, and Thor laughed loudly in response, pounding her on the back.

T’Challa chuckled as he left the dugout, already practicing his swing. And Clint meant “chuckled.” He didn’t think that was an actual thing, but there was their third baseman. Chuckling. Stranger things had happened, he guessed.

He took one look at the mound and found one such stranger thing.

Bucky, who normally faced them with his murder face on, who had pitched a complete game against them just that season, was already sweating, obviously anxious. He walked T’Challa in four pitchers, all of them wide and far outside the strike zone. Then he finally got a ball _in_ the strike zone, but it was right down the middle, and Wilson powered it out to left for a single. Romanoff walked on five pitches, and all of a sudden the bases were loaded with no outs, and Steve “Captain America” Rogers was up to bat.

Clint thought this should have made the Hydras nervous again, since Cap was tenth in all of Major League Baseball history for grand slams. Instead, the opposing dugout just got more rowdy.

Clint only heard them, though. His eyes were on Bucky, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. Bucky looked to the Hydras’ dugout, then back at Steve, who looked back. Clint couldn’t tell what they were thinking. But then Bucky turned to Clint himself. Clint didn’t know what he saw, but it was enough to make Bucky look, once more, at Steve.

The pause of game was long enough that the Hydras’ catcher, Johann “Red Skull” Schmidt, trotted up to the mound. As everyone watched, the two players got into some kind of heated argument, both of them waving their arms around and their voices rising. Finally, Bucky snapped one last thing, and walked off the field.

Clint gaped, staring, as Bucky trotted down the steps of his dugout and headed right into the clubroom.

“… bathroom break?”* Tony asked, but the confusion in his voice gave him away.

The Hydras’ manager stepped out, indicating that they had another pitcher coming in.

“The fuck is happening?” Tony said.

Clint looked around, seeing the whole team crowding around the fence separating them from the field. Wilson, who was supposed to be at second, had joined Romanoff at first, where they were talking with Phil Coulson, their first base coach. Cap was halfway between home plate and the Hydras’ dugout, as if he wanted to go into their clubroom and talk to Bucky himself. Clint had half a mind to join him.

Then Baron von Strucker came to the mound, apparently already warmed up, because he only threw five practice pitches before he nodded at the umpire. Everyone returned to their positions, Steve taking a couple practice swings before he set up in the batter’s box.

The first pitch nailed Cap right in the ribs.

Clint was over the fence and racing to home plate before he even thought to, his gaze fixed on Steve, who had gone down in a heap. Now, Steve knelt on the field with his forehead to the dirt, his hands grasping at his right side.

All around them, chaos reigned.

The fans were screaming, everyone was yelling. Behind Clint, his teammates separated, some of them running to Steve and the others running to the mound. Clint caught a glimpse of von Strucker’s smirk before he hyper-focused on Cap, and he knew no-one would argue that the ensuing brawl shouldn’t have happened. Whatever von Strucker’s reasoning was, he had clearly aimed to hit Steve.

“Cap!” Clint gasped as he reached his captain, who remained huddled on the dirt, agony written across his face. He breathed heavily, too heavily, and Clint was afraid to touch him, afraid that he would only make it worse.

“Get out of my way!” their health trainer yelled, and Clint backed up with Wilson and Tony.

He turned around, intending to at least haul some of the younger players away from the brawl, only to find the umpires already breaking up the fight. Loki and their other relievers headed back to the bullpen, sending looks over their shoulders at the Hydra players, and Clint realized that all of the benches had emptied, not just the dugouts.

The only player he couldn’t find on the field was Bucky.

* * *

They lost 6-1. The health trainers had carried Rogers off the field on a stretcher, the air somber around them as the noise quieted, and Valkyrie couldn’t get her stuff back from the first inning. She gave up six runs over the course of the next five innings. Bucky got a no-decision despite not recording a single out, and Baron von Strucker got the win, able to keep on pitching after the umpires delivered warnings to both teams.

Post-game, Clint hovered with the rest of the team in the clubroom. Fury had gone off with Hill, their third base coach, for a brief interview with all of the sports reporters.  But when Romanoff clicked the TV on, Bucky’s face filled the screen.

“- did you leave the field mid-inning?” a reporter asked.

Bucky shifted, his face contorting into some unknown emotion, before he answered. “I don’t want to pitch for a team that plays that way, and from now on I won’t. I’ve already called my agent to ask for help in terminating my contract.”

“A team that plays what way?” another reporter said.

All of the Avengers leaned in, interested in learning why, exactly, their catcher had been targeted on the first pitch.

Bucky looked right at the camera. “A team that intentionally seeks to injure an opposing player in order to give themselves a better chance at winning.”

For the second time in the past three and a half hours, the Avengers erupted into chaos.

* * *

@flame-on-me: I don’t usually get involved with other teams’ drama but I gotta say that was a fucked up thing to do. Intentionally hitting someone is one thing, and we could be here all day arguing the semantics of it. But intentionally hitting someone to purposefully cause injury? I’m not surprised Barnes walked. #bucky barnes #st. petersburg hydras #mlb #I’m not tagging this discourse b/c it’s fucking wrong #and I hope everyone knows that #even if you’re a hydra fan #if you don’t understand that then get off my blog

* * *

@bbarnes: I want everyone to know that my blog will no longer be considered a Hydra blog. I’m ashamed I ever rooted for a team that condones injuring another player. #bucky barnes #st. petersburg hydras #mlb #gonna go wherever bucky goes

    | @bartoned: i’m so sorry, Sharon

    | @bbarnes: @bartoned Don’t be. I’m glad I found out now instead of however much farther down the line.

* * *

Clint somehow escaped the mass of reporters outside their stadium, leaving his teammates to field questions. Voices called after him, but he ignored them, intent on getting to his bike and going… somewhere.

Where, he didn’t know yet. That would depend on Bucky.

* * *

He found him in the last place he checked, which coincidentally was also the first.

Clint stopped at the barstool next to him, uncomfortably familiar with the knowledge that this was where they had kissed for the first time. Sure, Clint had run out immediately after, but there was no denying it had happened. Before Cap got hit, Clint hadn’t _wanted_ to deny it.

“You’re getting predictable,” Clint murmured.

“Hmm,” Bucky said, swirling a beer in his hand. His eyes stayed fixed on the counter in front of him.

“Not predictable enough, of course,” Clint continued. “After all, who could have guessed you’d be in on a plan to hurt another player. Not just any player, but the guy who you’ve called your _best friend_ , Bucky.”

“I wasn’t in on it.”

“Which is why you walked off the field, of course,” Clint snorted.

Part of him felt sick, uncomfortable with confronting his boyfriend on such a serious matter. Uncomfortable with the searing anger that burned in his stomach, anger at being betrayed in such a way. At how _his catcher_ , Bucky’s supposed best friend, had gotten hurt. The other part of him stung, hope warring with logic. Maybe Bucky didn’t know. Or maybe he’d been forced to. He had said that he wanted out of the Hydras, after all.

Clint breathed in harshly. He needed to know the truth. “Why didn’t you stop it?”

Bucky slowly looked up, his eyes red and lips trembling. The hand holding his drink shook. “What?”

Clint leaned forward, purposefully getting into the other pitcher’s space. “Why. Didn’t. You. Stop. It?” He carefully enunciated every word, digging each one in with the accuracy he was so known for.

“I couldn’t,” Bucky said. He took a gulp from his beer. “Don’t you think I would’ve, if I could?”

The hope in Clint’s chest evaporated. So Bucky _had_ known.

“That’s what I thought, at first,” Clint said, and leaned heavily on the bar and the back of Bucky’s seat. “But then I got to thinking.” He laughed, pain shaking his voice. “You knew it was coming. You could’ve told someone. An ump, maybe. My manager. Me. If you knew it was coming, if you wanted to stop it so bad…” Clint choked out the words. “… then why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t,” Bucky said again.

“Stop saying that!” Clint yelled. Absently, he noticed that everyone else in the room refused to look at them. Even the bartender pointedly stayed at the other end of the bar.

“I couldn’t, because no matter what I thought of doing, I couldn’t see it changing anything.” Bucky took another drink, thumped his prosthetic against the bar in a fist. “See, if I told someone? The game would still go on. Maybe they’d make Rogers sit out, but my team would just target a different player. Odinson, maybe. Or T’Challa. Maybe Romanoff. Or maybe they’d just wait until after the game, target Steve then.”

“What?” Clint whispered, and he sunk onto the barstool next to Bucky, the anger in his gut starting to crumble.

“Or maybe I just don’t do anything. Maybe I pitch as many innings as I can, maybe even the whole game, and I don’t hit anyone. Would they just order a hit on Rogers after? See,” Bucky said, shaking his head now. He took yet another drink. “The only thing I could imagine doing, right then, the only thing that I could think of that may have had any impact on them, was walking off that mound.” He set his beer down with a thud, shoving his chair away from the bar. “So I did.”

He tossed a couple bills next to his beer bottle, and Clint stared after him as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * lol so this is actually referencing the time when ryan zimmerman, 1st baseman for the washington nationals, came off the field (after they got all 3 outs) and just.. sprinted down the dugout steps into the clubroom. no one knows if he actually needed the bathroom or what, but it was the best explanation anyone could think of


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, every link in a social media post leads to an actual twitter/instagram post, so have fun!

Major League Baseball @official_mlb

    Commissioner’s Office to look into intentional HBP from Hydras, prepared to deliver consequences #mlb #hydras

* * *

Top Posts on[ MLB.com](http://mlb.com)

  1. Winter Soldier Spills on History of Hydras’ Foul Play
  2. MLB Commissioner to Take Action Against Hydras Post-HBP
  3. Avengers Storm Mound After Intentional HBP on Rogers
  4. Barnes on Intentional HBP: “The Hdyras’ organization meant to remove Rogers from future contention.”
  5. Rogers to be X-Rayed Post-Intentional HBP



* * *

WINTER SOLDIER SPILLS ON HISTORY OF HYDRAS’ FOUL PLAY

by Sharon Carter

By now, the news of what occurred during the Avengers and Hydras’ game today is all over the internet. And not just the baseball side, I mean _everywhere_. This wouldn’t happen normally, not even for what happened today: an intentional hit by pitch, a brawl after the benches cleared.

Let’s make one thing clear. What happened today is, by no means, a regular occurrence. I pride myself on being non-biased on any issues not concerning the Washington Nationals (they’re my team, after all), but I hope we can all agree on this. Yes, that means you, too, Hydra fans. Maybe we can’t rely on the actual Hydra organization to back us up here, but you would think everyone else can agree that heedless violence is never the answer when it comes to sports. Even in hockey and boxing, violence has rules. And when those rules are broken, you hope there will be punishments in store.

Baseball has never been a violent sport. There, something we can all easily agree on, right? Sure, the odd mishap happens every now and then, but there’s a reason that new safety rules have been put into play. Catchers can’t block the plate, runners can’t go out of their way to run down the catcher, etc. When someone is intentionally hit, it’s done someplace that they’ll likely bruise but be left uninjured.

When Baron von Strucker caught Steve Rogers between the ribs with a 104 MPH fastball, he broke all the rules. Yes, even the unspoken ones. The ones that make people complain about the actual safety rules that have been newly implemented over the past decade.

_But Sharon, are we sure von Strucker meant to hit Rogers?_

Absolutely. You don’t miss with a 104 MPH fastball, especially not that far over into the ribs. Not on the first pitch. And not with a smirk like the one he had on. Anyone watching from home would have missed this, but von Strucker nailed every single one of his practice pitches, and he was already warmed up beyond those five pitches. The Hydras suspected that Barnes would walk off the mound, and they were prepared to replace with him with someone they knew would get the job done.

_But Sharon, if they meant to hurt him, why go for the ribs?_

Huh. This couldn’t be a thinly veiled question on why they didn’t _intentionally_ aim for Rogers’s head, could it? Or maybe you mean his foot, or his hand. Somewhere easier to break than his ribs. Three reasons. One, the ribs are a larger area to hit, harder to miss. Two, it’s harder to jump out of the way of a pitch when it’s aimed at your ribs, which makes them easier to hit because you don’t have to worry about your target moving. And three, Barnes and von Strucker are both pitchers with extraordinarily fast fastballs. Barnes has been recorded at 103 MPH and von Strucker at 104. You know what the highest recorded fastball speed is? 105 MPH. At top strength, neither Hydra pitcher would have to worry about not injuring Rogers with a direct hit.

_But Sharon, if the Hydras suspected Barnes would walk, why did they still have him start the game?_

Good question. To be honest, I can’t be entirely sure about this one, but I have an idea. You know who else has a top notch fastball? The guy who started the first game of the series, the same game that Rogers didn’t play in. The Hydras hoped they wouldn’t have to rely on Barnes, that the Avengers would play Rogers on a day when Barnes wasn’t pitching. Except they did, hence the desperate measures.

Barnes himself confirmed that they only approached him about the hit when he got to the park today.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he confessed. “I guess I really couldn’t _do_ anything.”

“You walked off the mound,” I said.

And he had. I watched the game in person, and Barnes had been obviously nervous since the first pitch. As soon as he got to Rogers, though, he hesitated. He looked between the batter and the Avengers’ dugout multiple times. He got into an argument with his catcher. And then he walked.

“It was the only thing I think of,” Barnes said. He was facing a room full of reporters all hungry for the same big scoop, but unlike when he faced Rogers earlier, he wasn’t hesitating. His voice didn’t shake.

And I believed him.

“Do you know if the Hydra organization has made previous offenses?” I asked.

He looked me right in the eye. “Yes. After I got my assignment, I asked around. An intentional hit by pitch disguised as accidental here, intentionally tripping someone on the base paths there. Everyone I asked had something to say, sometimes even naming the opposing player. I remember several of those situations being scrutinized at length, but none of them were ever confirmed as foul play.”

After the interview, I did some research.

Johnny Storm, starting pitcher for the Fantastics: slid into second to prevent a double play, his throwing arm got caught between the second baseman’s legs. He was out for three months with a broken arm.

Peter Quill, catcher for the Guardians: run down in a play at the plate soon after the safety rule went up. Out with bruised oblique muscles for three weeks.

These examples are recent, done in the last two seasons, but there are dozens more, all counting back to when the team first formed. All adding up to a stunning statistic: A total of 18% of all injuries in MLB occurred against the Hydras. In a pro sport with 36 teams, this goes far beyond coincidental. Most other teams see 1-3% of injuries occur against opposing teams. _1-3%._ Against _18%._ I can’t say for certain that all of the injuries were intentional, but more than half of them have received scrutiny from the Commissioner’s office. With Barnes’s confession, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if the cases all got reopened.

If they do, or even if they don’t, the Hydras’ organization will have questions to answer.

 

> Comments:
> 
> [comment has been removed for violating site conditions]
> 
> commenter: How in the world have the Hydras managed to pull this off since their early days? It just doesn’t make sense.
> 
>     | clearthebases: tbh i wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out there was cash involved
> 
>     | ivegot2sox: You really think the Commissioner’s office could be bribed? Over intentional injuries?
> 
>     | [comment has been removed for violating site conditions]
> 
> thebaseballlife: i’m just hoping rogers is ok
> 
> [see more comments]

* * *

‘buck i wanna apologize.’ Clint huffed out a breath and buried his face in one arm on the counter of the bar, still on the stool where Bucky had left him an hour ago. It hadn’t actually taken him that long to realize he’d made a mistake. Really, it took him maybe five minutes. But who was he kidding? He regretted everything he’d said as soon as Bucky walked out the door. Without looking at the text, he pressed SEND.

The reply came almost instantly, giving Clint hope until he saw what it said.

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘i’m sorry,’ Clint said. ‘4 everything’

This time the text took a while, leaving Clint to sweat. He took sips from his water every couple of seconds, but refused to have any alcohol. He knew he shouldn’t be drunk for this.

‘So am I.’

‘can we meet up? talk about it?’ Clint didn’t hesitate to send this one.

Apparently, neither did Bucky. ‘Meet me at the ballpark.’

* * *

Manhattan Avengers @official_avengers

    X-rays show cracked ribs, Rogers to be on DL at least 5 weeks #captainamerica #disabledlist

* * *

@starken-kraken: did everyone see the news #i’m pissed #hydras better pay

    | @avenge_me: i wanna fight whoever decided this was the way to play baseball.

    | @flame-on-me: What’s the news?

    | @starken-kraken: @flame-on-me steve’s out for 5 weeks at least. no way he’ll make the postseason

    | @hawkeye2rd: sorry for jumping in but this is so messed up

    | @starken-kraken: @hawkeye2rd jump in all you want, we’re all in agreement here

    | @avenge_me: mlb should remove the hydras from postseason contention. give the spot to the fantastics instead, they deserve it.**

    | @flame-on-me: @avenge_me, as much as I’d love that I dunno if it’ll actually happen.

* * *

Bucky never specified when or where he wanted to meet, but it wasn’t too hard for Clint to figure out. When? As soon as they both got to the ballpark. Where? Clint supposed home plate was enough in the open to get Bucky’s attention.

He arrived first, finding the park empty and locked up. He had his keys with him, but Bucky wouldn’t have access to a stadium that wasn’t his. Clint climbed the gate instead, his feet finding easy purchase and his arms strong enough to haul himself over the top. From there it was simple to make his way to the field.

He slumped to the dirt at home plate, staring back at the mound. He loved that mound. Unlike when he pitched for the Clowns, when it felt more like a job than a game, the Avengers had brought him back to the love of the game, to why he started pitching in the first place. Technically pitching _was_ his job. He was a Major League Baseball pitcher; that was a career. Something to put on his resume when his arm finally gave out. But this team, his current one - they showed him how to love that job again.

Clint wondered if the Hydras had ever done that for Bucky.

Finally, after ten minutes had passed, Clint pulled his phone out. The home-screen showed new texts, tweets, and baseball articles. Focusing on the ones from the official Avengers twitter, he groaned.

“Five weeks? Fuck.”

“Five weeks what?” Bucky asked from behind him.

Clint didn’t jump. “Steve. He’s out for at least five weeks.”

Bucky didn’t speak, instead choosing to sit next to Clint, silent. Clint held out his hand, palm up, in return. A peace offering. Bucky clutched it, squeezing Clint’s fingers till they hurt, but Clint didn’t complain.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Clint said. He fixed his gaze on their joined hands.

“Me, too,” Bucky replied. “I’ve done some thinking since then.”

“Me, too,” Clint said. He smiled at their hands, but couldn’t bring himself to look at Bucky. He heard his boyfriend - could he still call him that? He heard Bucky take a deep breath.

“I should have handled the situation better,” Bucky said. “Maybe told someone. I still don’t know if it would have changed anything, but at least Steve would have been prepared for foul play.”

Clint shrugged. “What’s done is done. I don’t like it, but it’s the truth.”

“The truth is… out there now, I guess.”

Clint finally snuck a look at Bucky to find him staring out at the field.

“Everyone knows,” Bucky said.

“Knows what?” Clint asked.

Bucky turned to look at him. “I told the reporters everything. When they told me to go for the hit, how I asked around for previous hits, how Hydra has been cheating the system since the team was first created.”

“Hydra won’t last long, then.”

Bucky frowned. “We can hope they won’t. At least, the Commissioner’s Office is taking this seriously. But teams get away with a lot. Players get away with a lot. There’s no telling how everything will go down.”

“Fuck,” Clint said quietly.

“Fuck,” Bucky agreed, and then shifted. “You wanted to tell me something?”

Clint nodded, releasing Bucky’s hand to wipe his palms against his pants. “I was wrong to accuse you like I did.”

“No, Clint - ”

“No, let me finish.” Clint scraped his foot back and forth over the dirt. “I was wrong. We’re partners, I should have trusted that you had a reason. I should have listened before I made any accusations. I didn’t… I didn’t understand why you didn’t tell anyone. I won’t lie, part of me still wishes you had told someone. It didn’t have to be me, just… anyone. But I understand why you didn’t.”

“Okay,” Bucky said.

Clint stared at him. “Okay?”

Bucky nodded. “We both made mistakes. But uh, we listened to each other? And communicated. Steve always says that’s important in a relationship.”

Clint finally laughed. “You know, he says the same thing about catchers and pitchers.” He deepened his voice and puffed his chest out, trying to put on his best Steve impression. “Pitchers need to listen to their catchers, but a catcher’s job isn’t just to call the game - it’s to take care of their pitcher.”

Bucky grinned. “Spot on.”

Clint smiled back, but then frowned. “I have more to say, though.”

Bucky nodded, putting his hand between them, palm up. “I’ll listen.”

Clint wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s, holding on tight. “You aren’t the first rival pitcher that I’ve been in a relationship with.”

“Okay?”

“Her name is Bobbi Morse, you’ve probably heard of her. Hell, you’ve probably played against her. They call her Mockingbird, she used to be one of the Avengers’ starting pitchers.”

Bucky tilted his head. “I’ve pitched against her. What happened?”

“I was with the Strongmen at the time.” Clint glanced up at Bucky. “The Clowns’ triple A affiliate in the minors. I um… I didn’t expect to get called up to the majors. The Clowns drafted me a few years before then, and I started off in double A. Got moved up to the Strongmen after a year, and I thought I was doing well, but then I just… stayed there. Didn’t go anywhere. It’s the same sob story a lot of minor leaguers have, but I never expected it would be mine.”

“It’s not,” Bucky said. “Not anymore.”

Clint nodded. “I know.” He looked at Bucky again and laughed. “I can tell you’re confused about what this has to do with Bobbi. We met at Spring Training. I got an invite and ended up on the bench when we played the Avengers. Never actually played her, but we got to talking. Soon enough we were dating and I was back in the minors. The next season, the Clowns called me up. Bobbi was in town for a series against them, we celebrated, I -” Clint stopped, took a deep breath. Squeezed Bucky’s hand. “I proposed. She said yes.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, and Clint squeezed his hand again.

“It turned out that we didn’t do too well as rivals. I pitched against her that series, and that was when we found out there was a problem, which, thankfully, has never been a problem with you. You, I have a different problem with,” he couldn’t help but joke.

“You have a problem with me?”

Clint smiled a little. “I can’t look away from you. Why do you think I hit Bloodstream?”

“I thought that was just a regular accident. Ball got away from you.”

Clint shook his head. “You distracted me. But with Bobbi… I couldn’t look at her. She was just another face in the opposing dugout. Even when we batted against each other, I refused to see her as more than an opponent.”

“As you should,” Bucky said.

Clint shrugged. “That’s what I thought. She won that game, even though I only gave up two runs. We met up afterward and I congratulated her. She said she thought I would have been more upset about losing, so I said I was just happy it was her I lost to. That made her happy, for a bit. Then she remembered how I hadn’t looked at her all game. And apparently, that was just a sign of the real problem.”

“The real problem?”

Clint nodded. “She said that I never complained about being long distance with her. I hadn’t even noticed? I dunno, I just never had a problem with it? But she thought I should have. She said she struggled with being long distance, so why didn’t I?”

Clint stayed silent after that, staring at the joined hands between them.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

“We broke up. I told her the long distance never bothered me, and she assumed that meant I didn’t love her as much as she loved me.”

“But long distance bothers you now?” Bucky said.

Clint nodded, finally looking up at him. “Yeah. I don’t think I loved her any less, I just… loved her differently. Or maybe _I_ was different. I dunno...”

Bucky shrugged. “We’ll never know. But thank you for telling me.”

“I figured you’d want an explanation for why I kept running in the beginning. I wasn’t originally going to tell you tonight, but… it seemed like a good time.”

“It was,” Bucky said.

Clint took a deep breath. “I also have a question.”

“I’ll try and answer, then.”

“Okay. Um.” Clint stared out at the scoreboard in center field. He didn’t want to see Bucky’s face right then if he reacted badly. “Can you be my boyfriend again? Cause I really like you being my boyfriend, and I think we understand each other more now, and -”

Bucky’s fingers brushed his jaw, encouraging Clint to look at him. Reluctantly, he did.

“Clint,” Bucky said softly.

“Yeah,” Clint whispered.

“I never stopped being your boyfriend.”

“Oh,” he said, and Bucky brought their lips together, soft and gentle, before parting again.

“Now can I ask you a question?” Bucky asked, and Clint felt him nudge their knees together.

“Yes,” Clint said, and nudged him back.

“Can you call me Buck again?”

Clint’s heart thumped, warmth spreading through his chest. “ _Yes_. Buck. Definitely yes.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. “I’m sorry I said you couldn’t.”

“It’s okay. Or at least, I understand.”

Bucky hummed and leaned in for another kiss, while Clint squeezed their hands tighter together.

* * *

The next day, Clint and the rest of the Avengers walked into the stadium fully expecting to avenge Steve, who sat at the far end of the dugout. He gave fistbumps to everyone who walked by, and Clint figured he was probably trying to boost their morale.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked with his fist held out. Clint tapped it with his own.

“In the stands,” Clint said. “Somewhere in right field? Upper deck, I think. He wanted to watch the game but not be recognized. And there was no way he was sitting with the Hydras.”

Steve nodded. “You guys made up then?”

“Yeah.” Clint sat, watching as Hope “the Wasp” van Dyne made her way onto the field. She wore a determined look, but Clint knew she wouldn’t be intentionally hitting any batters. Fury had forbidden it, insisting that Hydra would only look worse if the Avengers didn’t retaliate. Personally, Clint agreed. But they still wanted to see the other team pay.

* * *

They didn’t avenge Steve. Unlike their previous games, this one ended up as a pitcher’s battle, with van Dyne and the Hydra’s starting pitcher pitching seven innings each. Neither of them gave up any runs, but by the time Hope retired the last out in the top of the seventh, she had already thrown 101 pitches.

Fury brought Loki in, who looked confident until he walked the first batter.

“Focus on the first out!” Steve yelled, but Loki couldn’t.

Even with Carol Danvers, “Captain Marvel,” in to replace Steve, Loki wasn’t able get a good grip on the ball.

He gave up runs in the eighth, and the Avengers couldn’t pull even. They lost 3-0.

* * *

Bucky didn't return to St. Petersburg. Instead he stayed in Clint’s apartment, even when the Avengers left for one last away series against the Phillies.

The next time they met up, Bucky greeted Clint at the door and Lucky shoved his way into the picture. The Avengers had beaten their franchise record and finally reached 100 wins exactly. They had the best record in the National League.

The Hydras had also taken their division, beating the Cardinals by one game for the title. Because the team with the best record in the League always faced the Wildcard winner in the Division series, the Avengers would only have a shot at beating the Hydras in the Championship series.

“You see the news yet?” Bucky asked, and Clint shook his head. “Commissioner’s Office finally made a decision.”

“Let’s take this inside,” Clint said, and kissed his boyfriend into the living room. They settled onto the couch with their sides pressed together and Bucky’s hand in his. Lucky flopped onto the rest of the couch, his head on Clint’s lap.

Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing Clint’s hand, and Clint squeezed back.

“They’re being allowed to finish the season,” Bucky said. “No punishment on division placement, either, they’re officially first in their division.”

Clint frowned. “What about von Strucker?”

“Suspended for the rest of the season. He’s also been fined an undisclosed amount. Hydras have been fined, too.”

“So, what?” Clint asked. He felt anger burn in his gut. The Hydra organization shouldn’t be allowed to get away with what they did. “Hydras are fined and nothing else?”

Bucky shrugged helplessly. “For this season, anyway. But there’s already discussion on long-term punishment. Something about replacing the team altogether? But the owner would stay the same so I’m not sure how much better it will be.”

Clint sighed, absently stroking Lucky’s ears. “It’s better than nothing.”

* * *

The next week went by quickly. The Fantastics destroyed the Cardinals in the NL Wildcard game and the Clowns beat the Tampa Bay Rays in the AL Wildcard game. Clint felt sort of sorry for Florida, but only at first. Although they had three teams in the majors, the only team they had left in the playoffs were the Hydras, an organization that had been revealed to be devious even on the field. Then he remembered what the Hydras had done, that the Marlins had two World Series championships to their name, and that the Rays had just been to the World Series in 2008.

The Avengers faced off against the Fantastics in the shortest series they could manage, winning the first three games. Clint spotted Johnny Storm, their pitcher prodigy, shaking hands with Tony afterwards.

“Beat those bastards for me, ok?” Johnny said, Clint barely picking up his words. Clint’s gaze immediately went to Johnny’s pitching arm, remembering the article Sharon Carter had written. He wouldn’t be surprised if Johnny’s injury had been one of the ones investigated and proven supposedly clean.

“You bet,” Tony answered, his voice fierce, and Clint felt hope rise in his chest for the first time since the Hydras beat them. They could do this. They could defeat Hydra.

For Steve, for Bucky, for Johnny, and for everyone else Hydra had ever hurt, they would have to.

* * *

@thestrikezone: i’m sorry is that bucky barnes in the avengers’ dugout #nlds lb #live blogging #bucky barnes #winter soldier #manhattan avengers

    | @thestrikezone: IT IS

    | @wintering-on: sorry he’s what. Why???

    | @bartoned: he’s visiting his baseball love

    | @wintering-on: just bc he loves baseball doesn’t mean he should be in the avengers’ dugout??

    | @bartoned: lol no i meant he’s visiting his baseball love, aka clint barton. they’re literally sitting together are they not even trying to hide it anymore?

* * *

@wintering-on: reblog with your fave player and what made you love them for the first time

    | @starken-kraken: if it wasn’t obvious from my username: tony stark. love at first pitch

    | @bbarnes: Bucky forever! Gotta say it was probably when he stole second. That was a true power move for a pitcher

    | @hawkeye2rd: how has no one mentioned clint yet. love at first dog pic

    | @wintering-on: @hawkeye2rd now i’m curious. dog pic?

    | @hawkeye2rd: omg you’ve never seen it?[ https://www.instagram.com/p/yM1wtisdrW/](https://www.instagram.com/p/yM1wtisdrW/)

    | @wintering-on: i’m converting to the clint barton fandom, where’s the nearest trash can?

    | @hawkeye2rd: it’s ok, bucky already converted, too. and you can have the one next to mine!

* * *

The Hydras took all five games of their Division Series to beat the Diamondbacks, so Fury decided to bump the pitcher rotation up. Just like they played the Fantastics Stark-Riggs-van Dyne, they would start the first three games of the NL Championship Series at the top of their five-man pitching rotation. Clint frowned when he heard the news, anxious to play, but he also understood. They needed their best pitchers out there to get them the lead, and Clint was the fourth man in the rotation. No matter what, because they needed to win four games to advance, he would still get to pitch.

They started the series at Stark Stadium in Manhattan, and when the Hydras’ lineup was announced, the eruption of boos from the fans shook the ballpark.

Sitting with Bucky, Clint couldn’t help but shift. Fury and the Avengers’ owner had allowed Bucky to watch from their dugout, on the grounds that Bucky had already severed ties with Hydra. Clint and Steve helped by vouching for him, but now Clint wondered if it was such a good idea for this particular series.

“You gonna be okay?” Bucky asked. Clint looked at him, surprised.

“Thought I would have to ask you that.”

Bucky shrugged. “I left the team, I’m not in the dugout with them. Nothing they do can touch me.”

* * *

@thestrikezone: i’m sorry… master home run hitter red skxll who? … valkyrie’s in the house!! #nlcs lb #live blogging #anti-hydras #anti-red skull #brunnhilde #valkyrie #pitcher homer #this is why the dh is unnecessary #are there even any hydra fans left to get mad about me bashing their team

    | @clawsoutforwolverine: maybe no hydra fans, but c’mon. the dh is a staple of an all american pastime

    | @thestrikezone: should’ve known the tiniest whisper of the dh would bring you running @clawsoutforwolverine

    | @clawsoutforwolverine: not all the time. but i’m always ready for some dh discourse

    | @hawkeye2rd: @clawsoutforwolverine is now really the best time for this though. valkyrie just hit a homer. pitcher homer! any pro dh arguments were invalid as soon as she hit the ball

    | @clawsoutforwolverine: come talk to me when a pitcher other than valkyrie (who we all know has the best batting average of all the pitchers) actually gets a hit in the postseason

* * *

Literally, Bucky was right. But in a way, with every frown from Bucky, with every frustration that built and built and built, with the 2-1 lead that Hydra took after three games, the other team applied pressure to the Avengers in the hope that they would snap. And as the Avengers’ struggled, so did Bucky.

Clint, starting the next game, could only pray that the snap would propel them instead of destroy them.

With their second pitcher gone and their third pitcher suspended, Hydra had called up two new pitchers from their Minor League affiliate, nicknamed “Baron” Zemo and Madame Hydra. Clint was due to face the latter, a woman well-known not only for her fastball, but for the marksmanship she practiced in the off-season.

Clint was trembling as soon as he took the mound. They were in Hydra territory, yet the stadium was packed with the Avengers’ brighter colors. Clint wondered how many were truly Avengers fans, and how many came just to support the Avengers against Hydra. In a way, he guessed that made them all Avengers fans.

The pressure was immense, filling the park and pressing down on Clint’s shoulders as if he were Atlas holding the sky on his back.

“Relax,” Bucky had told him, and Clint wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But this was his first time in the playoffs. It felt as if he were pitching on a little league mound for the first time all over again, except this mound was bigger and the stadium larger and the fans louder and the game so much more professional.

Within seconds, though, Carol stood at his side.

“Take a deep breath, Barton,” she said, and rested her arm across his shoulders as if they were an armrest. “You’ve gotta relax.”

Clint nodded stiffly, gripping the baseball like it was a stressball. “First game,” he managed.

“I know,” Carol said, grinning at him. “Isn’t it great?” Lowering her voice, she pointed out how they could smell the hotdogs, how fans six rows deep had brought Avengers blankets to battle the chill, how the chatter of fans was friendly despite it being an away game. How Bucky leaned against the dugout fence, wearing the official team jacket that Clint forgot in the bar so many months ago, an Avengers’ cap shading his face but not hiding his smile.

Clint looked at him and just breathed.

“Okay,” he said finally.

Carol patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

And get to work they did. Unlike in the previous games when Clint pitched with Bucky in view, this time Bucky wasn’t a distraction. He was Clint’s salvation instead, calming him with just a look.

In the fifth inning, when Clint loaded the bases with one out, when the Avengers were tied 1-1 and there was every possibility that Clint would surrender the Hydras’ go-ahead runs, Clint looked to Bucky. He breathed. He induced a pop fly, too shallow for the runner on third to tag up and score. Then he struck out Bloodstream to end the inning.

Bucky pulled him in close when he reached the dugout, his lips to Clint’s ear, speaking too softly for the cameras or mics to pick up. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

Then he was gone, and Clint twisted around to find him at the other end of the dugout already, a mischievous look on his face.

“Oh, it is -” Clint started, only for Steve to interrupt him.

“Clint.”

His voice sounded amused, but Clint turned to look at him anyway.

“There’s a runner on,” Steve said. “You should grab your batting helmet and gloves, just in case you have to bat.”

“Right,” Clint said, and nodded, as if he hadn’t just been about to chase his secret boyfriend around the dugout in the middle of a playoff game. “I’ll go do that, then.”

“Good,” Steve said, and he was definitely laughing now. “And good luck out there. Get a hit, will you?”

Clint snorted. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything but bunt since August. “I’ll certainly try.”

By the time Clint walked into the batter’s box, they had two outs with two runners on. Bruce “the Hulk” Banner, their left fielder, and Pietro “Quicksilver” Maximoff, their second baseman, stood on third and first, respectively. Clint surveyed the situation carefully. Pietro was hands down their fastest runner, while Banner was one of their slowest. It was good to have second base separating them, so Pietro could run full out without worrying about the possibility of passing Banner.

Clint glanced at Fury, who tapped his left knee, his right shoulder, and then his chin as he relayed the sign: Clint needed to try and hit. No bunting, because Clint was fast but he would need the best bunt of his life if he wanted to beat a throw to first with two outs. Banner and Pietro took good leads, ready to run. If Clint made contact, they would run. No need to worry about being the second out on a baserunning error, since they only had one out left.

Part of Clint felt glad that Fury was letting him bat, because it meant he would be pitching the next inning. The rest of Clint felt his gut churn with nerves. He couldn’t just leave two runners on. He had to bring them home - he had to break the tie.

Madame Hydra started the at-bat with a fastball inside, and Clint leapt backwards to avoid it, his heart thrumming and the image of Steve collapsed next to home plate fresh in his mind.

“Ball!” the ump called.

_One ball, no strikes._

She followed up with another fastball, this time to the outside corner.

_Two balls, no strikes._

Clint fouled off the next pitch, this one a change-up that made him swing too early.

_Two balls, one strike._

Another fastball, and he swung too late.

_Two balls, two strikes._

The voices of his teammates blended with those of the fans, everyone yelling his name.

The next pitch looked like it was coming right down the middle, and Clint started his swing. He was at two strikes, he couldn’t miss this one. He had to hit it.

The ball curved. Clint curved with it, keeping his eye on the ball as he lowered his bat just to get a piece of the thing. His hand shot out to steady the bat, the ball made contact -

And he bunted it clean across the grass towards third base.

Clint dropped his bat and raced for first, berating himself the whole time. He was supposed to do anything _but_ bunt, and bunting with two strikes was stupid anyway because bunting it foul would mean he was out. And yet, somehow, as he tried to control the ball, he had ended up accidentally bunting the damn thing.

He watched the first baseman stretch out his glove hand, ready to receive the ball. Ready to end the inning.

Clint yelled, sprinted faster. Stumbled across first base and collapsed at Coulson’s feet, his first base coach already asking if he was alright.

“I’m good,” Clint said, waving his coach off, his eyes on the ump. “I’m fine, don’t worry - ”

“SAFE!” the ump bellowed, his arms outstretched, and Clint screamed, leaping to his feet with the rest of the stadium. Noise erupted all around them.

“Safe!” he yelled at Coulson, who pounded him on the back in congratulations.

“Safe!” Coulson yelled back.

In the dugout, Banner made his way down a line of high fives, and Clint grinned as the outfielder even accepted one from Bucky.

They broke the tie. The Avengers were up 2-1.

They weren’t giving up, not yet. Not even close.

* * *

@maxi-stop: get you someone who looks at you the way bucky barnes looks at clint barton

* * *

@thestrikezone: @clawsoutforwolverine … so are you gonna concede or…

    | @clawsoutforwolverine: it was a stupid bunt, that’s all

    | @hawkeye2rd: technically you never specified what type of hit

    | @flame-on-me: You all know where I’m against the DH, but is bunting for a hit really what you’re going to build your anti-DH foundation on?

    | @thestrikezone: @flame-on-me you bet it is #bunting for a hit is my favorite hit #except for a homer but that should be a given #also triples are wicked cool #and doubles are great #singles are necessary of course #… #listen any type of hit is my favorite hit

* * *

Manhattan Avengers @official_avengers

    Final strike-out goes to @on_the_rhodes_home . 2-1 #Avengers win! #warmachine #nlcs #mlb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** what does this suggest? this technically could just be a fan of the fantastics (oh unintentional puns) talking strange theories (trust me, sports tumblr does it all the time), but i was going for something more: the fantastics are the third team in line for the wildcard spot, and unfortunately for them, only two teams can get a wildcard. one of the teams ahead of them are in the same division as the hydras, so if the hydras were removed from postseason contention, this other team would win the division. the fantastics therefore qualify for the last wildcard spot, earning them a ticket to the postseason. they ended up scraping together a wildcard spot in the end, anyway, but there you have it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end! Same deal with links.

A few days later, the Avengers only celebrated winning the sixth game of the series for a few minutes, cheering before they all remembered that they may have won the battle, but they still had half a war to go.

Clint couldn’t decide if it was bad luck or good that they made it to Game Seven. Bad, because they still had one more battle to go. Or good, because if they hadn’t won Game Six then it would have been over.

Clint didn’t want it to be over yet. No one did.

Which was probably why Steve cornered them all in the locker room. He paced in the middle of the room, everyone gathered around while he put his thoughts in order.

Finally, he looked up.

“You’re gonna go out there,” he said, glaring them all down. “And you’re going to win. You’re going to show those Hydra assholes that their strategy was wrong. Because you don’t need me to win. You only need yourselves, and the very best that you all can give each other.”

“I mean, having the captain along would help matters a bit,” Tony joked.

Steve stared at him. “You do.”

“… we what?”

“You do have a captain.”

Tony glanced around, confusion clear on his face. “Huh?”

Steve pointed at Carol. “Maybe you don’t have Captain America, but last I checked, Captain Marvel’s still gonna be out there catching everyone’s pitches.”

* * *

As soon as Clint walked into the dugout, he felt the shift in the stadium’s atmosphere. Even the fans were solemn, the chatter quieter than normal as they understood that this wasn’t just about advancing to the World Series. This was about proving that the Avengers could never, _would_ never, allow themselves to be brought down by the strategy Hydra had employed.

They were at home for the last game, perks of having the best regular season record in the National League. The series was tied 3-3. It would truly come down to the last out, to which pitcher was better, to which lineup got the most runs.

Valkyrie trotted out to the mound, ready to warm-up. For once she was silent, her demeanor quiet but fierce.

Clint couldn’t imagine a better pitcher for this particular game.

* * *

Clint couldn’t sit still. In the beginning he had sat next to Bucky, both of them pressed hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder as they attempted to give silent support, but the bottom of the 7th had just ended and the Avengers had yet to score.

Instead he paced, walking back and forth in the dugout. He paused to talk to Parker, briefly, before their joint anxiety sent him to the other end of the bench. Most of the team was either on the field or in the bullpen, but as a starting pitcher he just needed to sit still and wait.

Valkyrie stood on the mound, straight-backed, tenacious to the end. She had only ceded one run, but the Avengers’ bats were quiet. Only T’Challa had gotten a hit - a bloop single that barely escaped the infield.

“It’s not fair,” Tony muttered. Clint stayed silent, but Tony kept talking. “This isn’t how we should go out. And Brunnhilde deserves at least one run, dammit.”

“Careful,” Steve warned. Clint didn’t look back, but he could imagine him leaning forward. “Those are our teammates you’re talking about.”

Tony quieted. “I know.”

“It’s hard just watching,” Clint said, and he wasn’t sure if he was defending Tony or just spitting out his feelings, but he felt Bucky join him at the fence. Silent, but supportive.

“Yeah,” Tony said.

Valkyrie made it through the inning, and Wilson “Kingpin” Fisk took the mound again. He was already at 113 pitches, but he was known for his endurance more than anything else. He would continue pitching until the Hydras’ manager forcefully dragged him off the field.

Thor walked up to home plate, his bat steady. Clint watched him, and knew that he was the type of batter that he feared the most: Resilient even in the face of potential annihilation.

True to form, Clint also watched him lift a ball to right, where it dropped for a single. Banner struck out, but Wanda, not to be outdone by Thor, followed up with another single. Clint felt hope rise in his chest, nestling into his lungs before it burst from his mouth, his throat not yet hoarse from yelling. And then Pietro nailed Fisk’s fastball to center.

It didn’t go far, not even with Fisk’s form dropping, but it was enough. Thor slid home under the throw, then trotted into the dugout all smiles.

“It’s time to win!” he yelled.

* * *

They only got the one run, and Hydra retaliated in the 9th, gaining the lead back as quickly as they lost it. Going into the bottom of the 9th, Clint already felt his stomach sinking, and Sam and then Natasha quickened the feeling with consecutive strikeouts. Hydra had brought out their closer, who had only lost two saves in the regular season.

Danvers didn’t care. Looking back, Clint would marvel at how well their batting order had fallen into place, at how even though most of the runners in the previous inning hadn’t scored, they at least moved the lineup forward. Now, though, Danvers hit the ball out of the park.

The fans roared in response, and the Avengers roared with them.

The next out came quickly, but it didn’t matter to Clint. Didn’t matter to the rest of the team.

They didn’t even care that they would have to suffer through extra innings. They were alive.

The next three and a half innings made them question that thought. In the top of the 12th, the Hydras took the lead again only for the Avengers to tie it back up, taking the game into the 13th inning.

Hydra didn’t score, Pepper keeping them to a walk and no more. They entered the bottom of the 13th still tied, 3-3.

Natasha walked up to her at-bat with Parker and Sam on first and second.

She swung on the first pitch, a _crack_ sounding as her bat broke, but she levered through it. And the ball flew.

Clint leapt to his feet in the dugout, the rest of the team moving with him as they all crowded the dugout fence. Clint hooked one leg over, more confident in Natasha than he was in the Hydra outfielder’s catching ability.

The ball dropped fast, jumping into the corner in left field. Parker led the way around the bases, gangly and quick with Sam close behind. Clint cheered, yelling as Hill waved her arm for first Parker, and then Sam, to round third. Natasha stopped at second, but the double was enough. The ball thundered back home, coming in too far away from home plate for the catcher to do anything.

Pandemonium reigned.

Clint joined the rest of the Avengers in sweeping the field, everyone yelling. He dimly recognized the Hydra players moving to their own dugout, but at this point he didn’t care. Bucky hugged him, fast, before thumping him on the shoulder with a large smile.

“Kiss you later,” Clint promised, and then the others swept him into the chaos.

* * *

@avenge_me: it’s now been 7 innings without a run, and i’m not much for superstition or praying but… god. i’ll give anything as long as the avengers win.

    | @avenge_me: listen when i said this… _i didn’t mean i was ready for extra innings_. (someone save us please)

    | @avenge_me: if the police come looking for whoever was screaming at 3 in the morning, let them know i’ve flown out to manhattan. gonna go ask natasha romanoff to marry me

* * *

Final | 

1

| 

2

| 

3

| 

4

| 

5

| 

6

| 

7

| 

8

| 

9

| 

10

| 

11

| 

12

| 

13

| 

R

| 

H

| 

E  
  
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---  
  
Hydras

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

1

| 

0

| 

1

| 

0

| 

0

| 

1

| 

0

| 

3

| 

6

| 

0  
  
Avengers

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

0

| 

1

| 

1

| 

0

| 

0

| 

1

| 

2

| 

5

| 

7

| 

0  
  
MLB WRAP: AVENGERS WALK-OFF HYDRAS, AVENGE CAPTAIN AMERICA

In Game 7 of the NLCS, Wilson “Kingpin” Fisk threw a 7-inning one-hitter, but it ended up being futile in the face of the Avengers’ tenacity. Back-up catcher Carol Danvers, ironically playing due to the Hdyras’ own actions against regular starter Steve Rogers, tied the game in the bottom of the 9th with a home-run. The Avengers later finished a 13-inning game by walking off on a 2-run, broken bat double from Natasha Romanoff.

* * *

Manhattan Avengers @official_avengers

    Steve Rogers activated from DL, hopes to play during WS #captainamerica #steverogers #worldseries

* * *

@starken-kraken: [ https://twitter.com/official_avengers/status/984063159479750656 ](https://twitter.com/ChrisEvans/status/984063159479750656) they can’t be serious, wasn’t it supposed to be 5 weeks? it’s barely been 4 #he better stay on that bench #seriously no one thought he’d make the ws #who decided this was a good idea? #if he gets hurt again i’m blasting fury on twitter

* * *

After the NL and AL Championship Series, the Avengers and Guardians were the only teams still in competition. Clint almost found it hard to believe. He spent years in the Clowns’ Minor League system, just a couple years with the Clowns themselves, and never got close to that ultimate goal: The World Series. But one season with the Avengers, and there he was.

It didn’t take him long to realize that the World Series moved at an easier pace than the Division or Championship Series. Maybe because they already defeated the Hydras? Clint didn’t know, but he was glad the mood wasn’t as heavy. Here, at last, they could just focus on baseball.

The first thing Clint saw when he walked into dugout was Bobbi. She stood across the field, in the opposing dugout with her regular uniform on. She was likely going to pitch the first game. He clenched his fists, restraining himself from grabbing Bucky’s hand.

“You forgot she moved to the Guardians, didn’t you?” Natasha asked, smoothly moving in front of him and effectively blocking his view.

Clint nodded, wordless. Natasha was the only one on the Avengers who knew about his old relationship with Bobbi.

Now, Natasha shrugged. “As long as she doesn’t affect your pitching, I don’t care.” She fixed Clint with a look, steel in her eyes. “It’s time to get over her, Clint.”

“I thought I had.” His words were quiet, but he still doesn’t look at Bucky, afraid of what he would see in his boyfriend’s eyes.

All Bucky did was knock their shoulders together. “It’s okay, Clint. You’re not pitching against her, so it doesn’t matter.”

Clint nodded again.

For the first five games, it really didn’t matter. Bobbi never reached out to him, never looked at him, and Clint returned the favor. Instead he focused on the ball games.

They won the first two only to lose the third so badly that Fury refused to put another pitcher out in the ninth inning. Instead Natasha walked up to mound, a devilish smirk on her face as she prepared to rain all hell down on the Guardians.

Clint figured that even though she ceded another run in their 14-2 loss, the Guardians still went through hell facing her. None of them seemed very happy to be looking her in the eyes. Having a position player pitch saved their bullpen’s arms for the second half of the World Series, though, and that was all that mattered.

By the time they reached Game Six, the Avengers were up 3-2 in the World Series. Hope “the Wasp” van Dyne had the start. Clint hoped they would finish it here, not just to win the Series, but so he wouldn’t have to pitch Game Seven. He could do a lot of things, but the stress of an elimination game? He’d rather not. Elimination games broke pitchers, and he wasn’t sure how well he could handle one.

* * *

@bartoned: uh, can anyone explain to me why mr. sam “falcon” wilson, mr. “i haven’t gotten a hit since the stone ages”, mr. “i’ma swing for the fences all the time”, mr. “please god just let him hit” is _using a bat that clearly has a black panther head on the knob_

    | @avenge_me: i do believe he’s borrowing t’challa’s bat. time to break that slump and get a hit.

    | @bartoned: HE GOT A HIT

    | @avenge_me: bat sharing solves everything, even in the world series.

    | @bartoned: thank the baseball gods for t’challa’s bat

* * *

Hope only had one out left in the bottom of the first inning, and no one was on base. She swung her arm down, the ball flying toward home. With a _smack_ , the ball flew right back at her. Clint gasped, everyone in the park leaping to their feet. Everyone except Hope. She dropped, hitting the mound with frightening speed as the ball careened past her.

Fury stormed the field in an instant, the Avengers’ fitness trainer right behind him and Hank Pym, the pitching coach, right behind the trainer. Quill, the Guardian’s catcher, stood on first base with his mouth open, the shock on his face obvious even from the visitor’s dugout.

“Is she okay?” Steve asked, joining Clint at the railing. Although Fury had insisted on activating him from the DL, he had yet to actually play. Clint figured he was supposed to be a last ditch effort if it ever came down to it.

Clint shook his head. “I don’t know.” On the field, Hope lay curled up with her arms wrapped around one leg. It didn’t look good.

Bucky, standing on Clint’s other side, finally spoke. “You should start warming up.”

“Sorry, _what_?” Clint asked, whipping around to stare at him.

“Bucky’s right,” Steve agreed. Hope still hadn’t moved, but the trainer started testing one of her legs. “It’s only the first inning; it’s the World Series. We’ve got Game Seven tomorrow if we don’t pull this one off. We need all our relievers sharp in case we lose today, and they can’t be if they have to pitch eight full innings. Besides,” Steve clapped one hand on Clint’s shoulder. “We had a day off after your last outing, so it’s not like you’re going out there without the proper rest period.”

“You can do it,” Tony said from behind him, and Clint turned to look at him just so the other pitcher could see how betrayed he felt. Tony only shrugged.

“Barton!” Fury yelled. Clint turned back to look at the field. Hope was finally sitting up, but shaking her head, her regret clear. Fury gestured to the mound.

“Fuck,” Clint whispered.

Bucky patted his back. “You’ve got this. And remember, you’ve got eight other players on the field with you. You’re not alone.”

Clint nodded, and Parker handed him his jersey. He must have grabbed it from the locker room as soon as Steve started his speech.

“Thanks,” Clint said.

“We’re all with you,” Parker said in response.

Clint shrugged out of his team t-shirt and pulled on the jersey. For the first time he was thankful it was October; he was already wearing his purple undershirt.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, and then Clint found himself walking out of the dugout.

Danvers greeted him, a grim smile on her face. “Sorry for the unexpected outing,” she said. “But there’s really no avoiding this one.”

“Is Hope okay?”

“She’s got a twisted ankle.” Danvers glanced back at her. “She’ll be okay in the long run, but obviously she can’t play on it now.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. His mouth felt dry - this was much worse than pitching an elimination game. At least then he knew it was coming. This was sudden, unexpected, and it came at the cost of his teammate.

“You’ll do fine,” Danvers said.

And Clint did. He struck out the Guardians’ clean-up on three pitches, immediately bringing the Avengers back to the offensive.

Then Bobbi stepped back out on the field, and Clint remembered she was pitching that day.

“Oh,” he said. “Fuck.”

* * *

Manhattan Avengers @official_avengers

    Hope van Dyne walks off field with injury, Clint Barton takes over. He inherits 1 runner on 1st #worldseries

* * *

The next inning was hell. Unlike when he actually dated her, Clint couldn’t take his eyes off of Bobbi. It felt like his gaze was magnetized; it would keep going back to her even when he didn’t want it to.

“You need to relax,” Bucky said after the second inning finally finished. Clint collapsed onto the bench, already feeling emotionally wrecked. “Forget that she’s there.”

“I can’t do that, Buck.” Clint buried his head in his hands. “And I’m batting against her this inning. Then pitching against her. _Fuck_.”

“Get it together, Barton,” Natasha said. She walked by quickly, not even slowing a little bit.

“Easier said than done,” Clint mumbled back.

“Well, for one,” Bucky pointed out. “You’re not batting. Okoye is.”

“Okoye’s what?” Clint lifted his head.

“It’s an away game against an _American_ League team. Okoye’s the designated hitter. Speaking of which, Morse isn’t batting either. They’ve got their own designated hitter in to bat for her.”

Clint laughed as he felt the pressure ease. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank fuck for the designated hitter.”

Bucky swatted his shoulder. “You’d say it more often if you batted as terribly as I do.”

Clint shrugged. “We’ve got Valkyrie on our team; we’re all set.”

* * *

The rest of the game went by easier after that. For once, the opposing batters were hitting Clint’s pitches to the fielders, and even when they didn’t, the Avengers insisted on making good catches. T’Challa laid out on a line drive; Banner jumped against the outfield wall to steal a homerun. By the time Fury pulled Clint after the seventh inning, the Avengers were ahead 2-1.

Of course that was when everything went to shit.

Fury called Kate in from the bullpen, likely because she had been doing so well throughout the postseason, but she promptly gave up two back-to-back doubles to tie the score. That resulted in Fury calling in Pepper, who got one out before the next batter singled in the runner on second.

Tony shook his head, frowning. “Not good.”

But Pepper grit her teeth, determination taking over her features. Strike, strike, ball, _strike out_. Inning over.

She came back to the dugout and walked right up to Clint, the determination leaving her as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry, Clint,” she said. “That should have been your win.”

Clint only shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, we can still turn this around. That’s all that matters, right?”

“Right.”

Banner led off the top of the ninth with a single, and Fury immediately motioned for Steve.

“You’re up,” Fury said. “After the first Maximoff. If you get on base, the second Maximoff will pinch run for you.”

Steve nodded wordlessly, shedding his jacket to reveal that he was already in uniform.

Wanda, aka the first Maximoff, followed up after Banner to put them on first and second with no outs. Steve walked up to the batter’s box, practicing his swing one last time, and the stands erupted with cheers.

“Get it, Rogers!” Tony yelled.

Clint clenched his fingers into a fist, silently willing his catcher to get a hit. Or even a walk… anything to move the inning forward.

Steve did them one better than a walk. As soon as the first pitch rocketed down from the pitcher’s mound, Clint knew Steve would hit it. And hit it he did - _out of the park_.

“ _Yes!”_

Everyone leapt to their feet, cheers echoing through the stadium. Steve trotted around the bases with one arm raised and the rest of the Avengers gladly welcomed him back to the dugout. Clint grinned as he watched Steve and Bucky perform a complicated handshake in celebration.

Steve pointed at Clint, still smiling. “That was for you.”

“I won’t get the win,” Clint said.

“But you _will_ win the World Series.”

“We can hope.”

“Hey, I just put us up by two runs. Rhodey can easily finish the game with that.”

The Avengers didn’t add any more runs, but Steve was right.

First pitch from Rhodey: ground out.

Five pitch at-bat for the next batter: strike-out.

The last at-bat with only two pitches: fly-out.

For one moment, Clint just stood there, stunned. Then Bucky grabbed him by the arm, the noise of the fans celebrating assaulted his ears, and all of a sudden it hit him that they did it.

“Did we just… did we just win?” he asked, and he turned to look at Bucky, then Steve. Someone hugged him from behind, but he didn’t get a chance to see who it was.

“ _You_ did,” Bucky said. “ _You_ won. You and your team.”

“Holy shit,” Clint said.

“Holy shit,” Bucky agreed.

* * *

Clint was about to follow the rest of his team into the clubroom, ready to properly celebrate the night, when Bobbi caught his attention. Clint waved Bucky on and waited for her to approach.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she greeted. “How have you been?”

“Good… um. You?”

“Good,” she said. Clint fidgeted, but she didn’t move. “I just wanted to say… At least we lost to you.”

Clint blinked, not sure what she was trying to say. “What?”

Bobbi smiled and finally moved, scratching the back of her neck. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? You said the same thing to me once, you know. I’m glad that if we had to lose… we lost to you.”

“Oh.” Clint felt his cheeks heat up. “Thanks.”

She shrugged. “Just wanted to return the favor, you know? Also… good luck.”

“Good luck?”

She smiled again, this time in amusement. “With Barnes. I’d heard the rumors, and I wasn’t sure what to think of them at first, you know? It’s never easy hearing about exes forming new relationships, and well... I was going to marry you. But you look good together. It looks like he makes you happy. So good luck.”

“Thanks,” Clint said, a little numbly. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of her speech.

“No problem,” Bobbi said, and waved as she walked away.

Clint blinked after her, then jolted as something she’d said sunk in. “Wait. Rumors?!”

* * *

@avenge_me: i’m actually crying right now, did that actually happen? did we really win??

* * *

@starken-kraken: Congratulations to the Manhattan Avengers, World Series champions! #still can’t believe i can say this #this was a trip #i’m gonna go get my own champagne so i can celebrate with them #see all of you later

* * *

@flame-on-me: To be honest I’m still a little bitter the Fantastics have yet to make it past the NLDS, but I can’t think of any other team who deserved this more than the Avengers. They’ve been through so much this year. Cheers to all my Avengers mutuals, have fun and go celebrate. We’ll get you next year. #world series #manhattan avengers

* * *

Clint found Bucky as soon he stepped into the clubroom. The only thing distinguishing everyone else were their jerseys, most players already wearing different types of headgear and goggles to protect their eyes from the champagne. But Bucky lounged in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest as he stayed out of the cameras’ viewpoints.

Clint didn’t hesitate. He dove right into the spray of champagne, grabbing a stray bottle and dousing other players with it even as he made his way to his boyfriend. Finally, he fell into Bucky’s side and pressed so they were flush against each other.

“Did you know there were rumors about us?” Clint asked.

Bucky hummed. “I’m not surprised. What I _am_ surprised about is why you aren’t out there celebrating. Spraying other players with champagne is the best way to express your joy.***”

Clint grinned. “You know, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not about the champagne thing, but it’s pretty spot-on for me.”

Bucky smiled back. “I figured.”

“Anyway,” Clint said. “I’d rather spend my time with you.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“I try.”

“You’re not afraid of the cameras?” Bucky asked, turning to look at him.

“Nope,” Clint said. “Like I said, rumors. We’d only be confirming what everyone already suspected. And also, I’m pretty sure the camera guys are more concerned with getting footage of Steve dousing everyone and acting very un-Captain-America-like, so I think we’re good.”

Bucky smiled. “Good.”

Clint grinned back. “Good.” And he leaned in for a kiss.

* * *

Manhattan Avengers @official_avengers

    Final contract with @buckybarnes has been finalized. Welcome to the Avengers, Winter Soldier! #buckybarnes #wintersoldier #offseasonsigning

* * *

@bbarnes: GUYS[ https://twitter.com/official_avengers/status/973322609927442432](https://twitter.com/official_avengers/status/973322609927442432)

    | @bartoned: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    | @wintering-on: I’M YELLING DID ANYONE KNOW THIS WAS HAPPENING

    | @maxi-stop: NO. HOLY SHIT !!!

    | @bartoned: ok but imagine what every game is gonna be like with both Barnes _and_ Barton on the field

    | @bbarnes: Don’t even

* * *

@avenge_me: ok i know this isn’t really what people are talking about right now but what’s gonna happen to the rotation #manhattan avengers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #we have 6 starters #not a problem i thought would ever happen #help

    | @flame-on-me: Maybe you’ll trade one out?

    | @avenge_me: NO my heart couldn’t take that. i love them all too much

    | @starken-kraken: i think we may need to prepare ourselves for the worst

    | @bartoned: we trade every single one of them, even Barnes who we just got?

    | @starken-kraken: …….. blocked

* * *

Top Articles in the Manhattan Sports Post

  1. Wakanda to Enter Winter Olympics
  2. What It Means for Figure Skating: Nikiforov and Katsuki Break Barriers as First Male/Male Pair
  3. St. Petersburg Hydras to Become Assateague Island Mustangs (A.I.M.)
  4. Avengers Hint at New Position for Scott “Ant-Man” Lang: Long Reliever?
  5. Top 10 Strangest Signings of the MLB Offseason



* * *

EPILOGUE

Clint hummed as he gripped Bucky’s hand. Soon enough they would have to let go, to be professional if only for the cameras, but they would be fine for a few more minutes. The Avengers’ spring training ballpark loomed in the distance. The air was chilly for Florida, but much warmer than than New York. Winter would pass soon anyway, and then it would be warm again.

Despite the cold, despite Opening Day being more than a month away, Clint couldn’t help but feel like it was baseball season again.

He huddled further into his jacket, willing the warmth to seep further into his bones.

“Cold?” Bucky asked, and he rubbed his gloved fingers over Clint’s, trying to warm them.

“Little bit,” Clint said, and then grinned. “But I’ll get to pitch to an actual mitt soon, and that’ll warm me up.”

Bucky nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Clint glanced over at him.

“Are you nervous?”

Bucky shrugged. “I didn’t think I would be, but I was with the Hydras for a long time. It feels weird to be on a different team.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Clint said, and squeezed Bucky’s hand. “There’s no better place for you than with this team, I’m certain of it.”

“Mmm, I think you’re wrong.”

“How so?”

Bucky stopped them a block from the park, leaning into kiss Clint soft and slow.

“There’s no better place for me than right here,” he said. “With you.”

“You’re getting sentimental,” Clint said.

“Only for you,” Bucky responded, and they hummed into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** listen i’m not even kidding, this is what baseball players do when they win stuff. tbh i probably should’ve described this when they won the division, the nlds, and the nlcs, too, but oh well. only doing it for the world series makes it special i guess
> 
> P.S. It never came up in the actual fic but Thor’s nickname is “Syndegaard” because I think I’m funny (Noah Syndegaard is an actual MLB pitcher, his nickname is Thor, please validate me and tell me I’m hilarious)
> 
> In regards to Clint and Bucky, I am an able-bodied author writing characters with disabilities. Please, if you feel like I messed up in any way, tell me and I will do my best to fix it.
> 
> Also if you want an actual listing of the Avengers’ final roster, go here: [http://bookdancerfics.tumblr.com/post/175679333946/avengers-baseball-roster]
> 
> Anyway I hope you all enjoyed reading this! Don’t forget to give @claraxbarton all the love for her art, and of course I wouldn’t mind some reviews myself. ;)


End file.
